


Burning Love

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Arizona - Freeform, Drugged Without Consent, Episode 6x17, First Time, Grumpy Gibbs, Hurt/Comfort, Las Vegas, M/M, Pre-Slash, South by Southwest, SxSW, Tony May Leave, Uncle Clive's fortune, Unrequited Love, Yearning, rich!Tony, what happens in Vegas can’t remain a secret forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning home from Las Vegas, Gibbs and DiNozzo slowly come to realize something shocking must have happened to them while they were there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Any Way You Want Me

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge: Reverse Bang 2016 (http://ncis-bang.livejournal.com/)  
> Artist: penumbria_fics  
> Request: Tony and Gibbs are married or get married and the team finds out.  
> Warnings/spoilers: Season 6, SxSW, 6x17, non-consensual drugs  
> Words: 31,500, 9 chapters  
> Rated: R  
> Betas: Combatcrazy (who makes a great sounding board and listens to all my crazy ideas,) and Jacie (for last-minute, thorough betaing, and by the way, I made a couple of your comments into lines.) I cannot thank you two enough!  
> Thanks to: penumbria_fics for the extra art, as well as for the art that motivated me to write this story.  
> Notes:  
> \- Some of the dialog is taken from the episodes and integrated with my own. Small changes have been made to the timeline.  
> \- Some of the ceremony wording was taken from actual ceremonies, found online. Believe me, I never could have thought it all up myself.

**Burning Love by**[rose_malmaison](http://rose-malmaison.livejournal.com/)  
Challenge: Reverse Bang 2016 (http://ncis-bang.livejournal.com/)  
Artist: [penumbria_fics](http://penumbria-fics.livejournal.com/)  
Request: Tony and Gibbs are married or get married and the team finds out.  
Warnings/spoilers: Season 6, SxSW, 6x17, non-consensual drugs  
Rated: R

  

**CHAPTER 1**

_**Any Way You Want Me (That's How I Will Be)**_  
_~ Elvis song  
_

_I'll be a strong as a mountain,_  
_Or weak as a willow tree,_  
_Anyway you want me,_  
_That's how I will be._

Tony stood in the middle of Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport’s main concourse with their gear at his feet, and watched Gibbs striding towards him, carrying food and drinks on a cardboard tray. Just like Tony, Gibbs was wearing the same jeans and long-sleeved shirt he’d had on since yesterday, when they’d ridden on horseback up, and then back down, the rocky trail leading to Dina Risi’s hideaway on Mount Pinos. It had been cold up there, but despite being February, the city was warm, so Gibbs had rolled up his sleeves, exposing his tanned forearms. Tony couldn’t help but notice that his boss’s jeans were hugging him in all the right places. Rugged and slightly dangerous was a good look on Gibbs, thought Tony, carefully schooling his expression as the man approached.

 

Tony had been Gibbs-watching pretty much since the moment they met, and over the years he had honed his skills of observation to a fine art. No doubt about it, Gibbs was an attractive man, with his silver hair and piercing blue eyes, but there was more to him than just his looks. The man had attitude, or, as one of Tony’s frat brothers liked to say, ‘ _the Big A_.’ Underneath the gruff exterior, steely glances and sarcastic remarks designed to put you in your place, was a man with a strong conviction that his way was the right way – even if it wasn’t. Breaking the rules was a hobby for Gibbs. The Senior Special Agent handled things the way he wanted to, no question about it. Just the same, if Tony didn’t agree with the way Gibbs’ actions, he’d speak up about any misgivings. Gibbs rarely changed course, but at least he would hear Tony out.

 

Gibbs might be competitive and single-minded, but Tony didn’t think of those as negative qualities, particularly in their line of work. Sure, Gibbs was a bastard, careless of other people’s feelings at times; Tony had been on the wrong side of his boss’s temper, and had been hurt by him, more times than he cared to remember. Even so, Tony had no doubt that no matter what the situation, he could rely upon Gibbs to watch his back. Gibbs would never leave him behind, would never walk out on him…okay, there was the whole running-off-to-Mexico thing, but there were extenuating circumstances, like having a meltdown and losing the past fifteen years.

 

Gibbs had taken Tony under his wing at a time when he had sorely needed direction, and Gibbs had taught him far more than investigative methods over the years. He’d been there for Tony during some tough times. Gibbs had been a friend and a mentor – which was a hell of a lot more than anyone else had ever done for him – and in return, Tony was loyal and dedicated to him.

 

Right from the start, Tony had found Gibbs to be attractive, but… Yes, there was a big _but_ in there, because no way was Tony going to rock the boat, particularly a boat that was being manned by two men. Being secretly crazy about your boss was one thing, but taking it any further? No, no way was Tony going to go there. He _couldn’t_. He couldn’t risk losing their friend/colleague/whatever-it-might-be relationship, nor his career, over a short-lived affair. Both of their careers would be in jeopardy if Vance caught wind of even the slightest hint of impropriety. Boning your subordinate was not the kind of off-duty activity that would go over well with the brass.

 

Tony could just see it though: they’d have hot and heavy sex, the kind that didn’t involve kissing on the lips, in one of those unused bedrooms upstairs in Gibbs’ house. Gibbs would pound him into the mattress, and come with a satisfied grunt before rolling over and falling asleep. Tony would slip out Gibbs’ bed, get dressed quietly downstairs so he didn’t wake him, and head home in the cold hours before dawn.

 

They’d get their rocks off but there’d be no emotions involved, not from Gibbs, anyway. He could handle that, Tony told himself. It would be worth it just to sleep with Gibbs.

 

It wouldn’t be that difficult to hide it, if they were fucking on a regular basis, considering Tony’s talent for subterfuge. And Gibbs…well, Gibbs was used to keeping his feelings close to the chest, and he’d never let on what they were up to.

 

Tony smiled, thinking it might be fun to pull the wool over their colleagues’ eyes. Together, he and Gibbs could run rings around them. Nobody would believe that the two senior agents on the MCRT were having wild monkey sex, even if it were going on right under their noses. Ziva would sneer and dismiss any such notion as improbable, and the coding embedded in McGee’s brain simply wouldn’t let him go there. Ducky might notice if there was a change in their demeanor, but at most he would be to make a sly comment to Gibbs.

 

Palmer would be the last to catch on, but Abby, she was sharp. It wouldn’t be long before she saw through the charade. She’d be thrilled to discover that Tony was hooking up with Gibbs, and she’d have a hard time keeping the news to herself. She’d let it slip to Tim, and next thing you know, Vance would hear rumors, and both he and Gibbs would get called to his office and – that’s where Tony’s ruminations screeched to a halt.

 

What the _hell_ was he thinking? There was nothing for anyone to find out because _nothing_ was going to happen. Nobody would find out. Nobody would be embarrassed or outed or fired. And as for Gibbs, if he even caught an inkling of Tony’s true feelings for him, he’d surely slap Tony silly in front of the entire NCIS workforce, and then toss him in the Potomac with a growl and a ‘Don’t ever come back.’

 

So no. Just no. Nothing would ever happen between them. It couldn’t, no matter how much Tony wished it would.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

 

The past few days, Tony had caught Gibbs frowning at him several times, ever since he’d learned that Tony might be inheriting something from his Uncle Clive.

 

Uncle Clive Paddington was the older brother of Tony’s late mother. Tony remembered his uncle as a generous and sweet man with a serious side, who sometimes drank too much, yet always lived life to the fullest. Clive adored his sister, Elizabeth, and was been deeply saddened by her death years earlier. Clive had loved Tony, too, and had fondly told him how much he resembled his mother.

 

Clive’s own wife died years ago, and they’d never had any children, so his entire fortune – and it was considerable by all accounts – would most likely go to his nephews, Crispian and Tony. Crispian had worked for Uncle Clive for the past twenty years, so Tony accepted that it was entirely possible that their uncle would leave him the business and the bulk of the estate, if not all of it. Now he was waiting on tenterhooks to find out what was in the will. Due to the time difference and Tony’s work schedule, he’d missed the solicitor’s calls three times now.

 

Tony had mistakenly boasted about the possibility of a windfall to Abby, and of course she had shared the news with Tim, and from there on, it had spread quickly, until everyone at NCIS seemed to know about it. Not that Tony cared about the speculation and office pools; he’d expected those, and even enjoyed the attention. What he did care about was now that Gibbs had heard about the inheritance, he seemed to be inordinately annoyed.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

A huge pile of paperwork had appeared on Tony’s desk with instructions for him to read and sign off on the reports. “I thought there was a paper reduction act in this office,” Tony grumbled.

 

“Gibbs is not happy,” Ziva said with a smile.

 

“So it appears,” Tony replied absently.

 

“You will be leaving soon?” Ziva asked, a little too eagerly.

 

“I haven’t handed in my notice…yet,” Tony said casually.

 

McGee stared at him. “I thought you were pulling our leg.”

 

Tony signed one form and smoothly moved on to the next one. “I am not pulling anything, McGullible. You’d better be prepared to pull a lot of all-nighters, though. My seat comes with a lot of responsibilities. This load of paperwork is just the tip of the iceberg.”

 

McGee questioned, “All-nighters?”

 

“You two have had it easy.” Tony gave a mild snort.

 

Assuming McGee moved up to the position of Senior Field Agent, and Ziva rose in rank, too, they’d have to find a new probie – and everybody knew that Gibbs hated dealing with wet-behind-the-ears probies. Gibbs would be forced to dig through stacks of personnel records to find the perfect candidate for a job that entailed low pay, long-hours and dangerous situations. So now he was glaring at Tony and snapping at him more than usual.

 

“Stop scaring them,” Gibbs ordered without looking up. “Bad enough that I have to replace one agent.”

 

“Stopping right now, Boss,” Tony immediately replied, wondering why Gibbs was so quick to believe he was going to quit if he inherited some money.

 

Okay, so ever since he got the first call from the solicitor’s assistant, Tony may have become a bit engrossed in this inheritance business, and the impact it could have on his life. His colleagues had been griping that he never shut up about the cool things he was going to buy. Well, he did need a new car, so why not a Ferrari? His lease was almost up, and although Tony truly loved his apartment, he’d love it even more if he had a home with a pool and secure parking. A working elevator would be a major plus, especially if that apartment was the penthouse.

 

Despite losing his dear Uncle Clive, Tony was excited to hear from his uncle’s solicitors at Hubbard & Hubbard, and why not? There were millions at stake, and if he was incredibly lucky, he just might soon find himself rich beyond his wildest dreams. However, Tony had learned at an early age that counting your chickens too early in the game would most likely lead to devastating disappointment, so he remained tentatively optimistic. Even as a kid, Tony planned for contingencies, with alternate escape routes worked out. If the money didn’t materialize, he’d still buy a new car, and he would keep an eye out for an apartment complex with a pool and secure parking, and an elevator – but he’d be on a budget. That was nothing new.

 

It was amusing that his colleagues believed that the minute the funds hit his bank account, he’d quit his job and head off to an exotic locale. According to Ziva, “You will spend your time lazing around on the beach in a hassock, with a bimbo on each arm.”

 

“Hammock,” Tony corrected, liking what she envisioned. McInvestment was more concerned about Tony socking away a major portion of his inheritance for retirement. Abby kept looking at Tony with big, sad eyes, accusing him of deserting them long before it became a reality.

 

In response to his friends’ conjecture, Tony had smiled and carefully refrained from saying anything specific about his future plans. He had never said he was quitting, but he never assured them he was staying, either. It was sort of fun, stringing them along while he waited for the pivotal call from his uncle’s solicitor. Tony wouldn’t put it past Uncle Clive to have bequeathed everything to charity, on a whim. If not, Cousin Crispian was in the running for the family fortune, too, but as he was on equal footing with Tony, as their mothers were sisters, there could just as likely be an even split down the middle. Half of the estate’s value, which came to seventeen-million dollars each, give or take a million, wasn’t anything to sneeze about. Tony could dream of a lot of things he could do with such riches.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Unfortunately, the thirty-five million dollar question was not going to be answered anytime soon. Tony had missed the British solicitor’s phone calls while in Arizona due to poor cell reception in the badlands. Even if they’d been able to connect, he’d been busy this morning, galloping down a rocky trail on horseback while trying not to get shot by an assassin buzzing them in a low-flying helicopter.

 

Now they were waiting to board their flight back home. It would be too late by the time they arrived in DC, and with the time difference, Tony wasn’t likely to connect with the solicitor until the next day.

 

The sea of travelers crisscrossing the airport concourse parted before Gibbs as if he were Moses. Gibbs seemed oblivious to the appreciative looks he was getting from both women and men as he passed by. With his outdoorsman clothing, his suntan setting off his silver hair and making his blue eyes appear even bluer, and the straight-backed and confident way he had of carrying himself that seemed almost cocky, even Tony couldn’t but help but give his attractive boss a once-over.

 

As Gibbs approached Tony, their eyes met. Gibbs smiled a little, and lifted the food tray as evidence he’d been successful in finding something edible. It was one of those crooked smiles that meant he knew exactly what you were thinking and didn’t give a damn, and for a fleeting moment Tony thought that maybe he hadn’t covered his admiration very well after all.

 

Gibbs’ smile turned into a smirk when Tony sniffed, detecting the aroma of tomato sauce and pepperoni. “You got me pizza, Boss?”

 

“No guarantees. Came from a Mexican food cart way down by Alaska Airlines.”

 

It was the kind of thing Gibbs had said dozens of times over the years – an offhanded, ‘Here’s your pizza and don’t blame me if it’s cold,’ (or ‘crappy,’ or ‘missing the pepperoni,’ or ‘It’s been in the trunk for four hours,’ alongside the evidence while they’d been running down a suspect) – but this time Tony felt different. Gibbs, whose eyes twinkled with amusement, had gone the extra mile to seek out pizza for him, even if it was crappy airport pizza, and in Tony’s book, that was tantamount to a declaration of love.

 

“Thanks, Boss,” Tony said, a grin spreading across his face.

 

“Doesn’t take much to please you,” Gibbs observed.

 

Actually, all it took to make him happy was to have Gibbs nearby, either out in the field while on a case, or doing something together on their time off. Even though this trip to Arizona had been physically draining and uncomfortable, Tony wouldn’t trade it for the world, if only because he had been in close proximity to Gibbs the entire time. For better or for worse, Gibbs was a huge part of his life. If, by some cosmic chance, he inherited the family fortune, he was going to be faced with a very difficult decision.

 

Would he stay with what he knew, or leave on the adventure of a lifetime? Continue being Gibbs’ second, or break away and become his own man? The few times Tony was offered a promotion, or when he had the chance to move over and up at another agency, he didn’t need to think before answering, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

 

The idea of having enough money to do anything he wanted, with the world as his playground, was incredibly exciting, and tempting, to say the least. But on the flip side, how could he give up working with Gibbs, and being around him all day and half the night? Did he really want to resign and take off for parts unknown – all alone?

 

He didn’t even have to think about the answer. There had never been any choice; the matter was settled before the horse was even out of the starting gate. Money or no money, Tony knew, deep in his heart, that he didn’t want to – _couldn’t_ – leave Gibbs. It was one of those turning points in a person’s life, a moment that, when you looked back later, you would say to yourself, “Yeah, it was _then_ that I knew for sure.” It was _then,_ at that very moment, when Tony finally accepted that he had lost his heart to Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a long time ago. It was a bittersweet acknowledgement of his deeply hidden feelings, because Tony knew just as surely that he would never do anything about it; he would never let Gibbs know how he truly felt about him.

 

Tony shrugged and said, “I don’t think I could have walked all the way to the food court.”

 

Gibbs looked Tony up and down. “What’s the matter? Your ass still sore?”

 

With a pained smile, Tony gave his rear end a couple of pats. “Well, yeah, riding up and down every hill between here and Mount Pinos hasn’t done my posterior any good.” His inner thighs were killing him, and his new boots had given him blisters. He could not wait to have a long, hot shower, or better yet, indulge in a good soak in a tub with bubbles and some expensive skin softener. Their flight would be boarding soon, and they’d be back in DC in five hours. He couldn’t wait.

 

“You can eat standing up,” Gibbs said unsympathetically. He led the way to the nearby waiting area, and chose an empty table by the window so they could watch planes taking off. As soon as he was seated, Gibbs took a big swig of the hot black coffee he’d bought, and sighed with satisfaction.

 

Tony sat gingerly on one of the hard plastic chairs and stuck a straw in the soda Gibbs shoved in his direction. “That cowboy coffee Sheriff Boyd boiled up was like battery acid. Reminded me of the squad room coffee back in Peoria.”

 

“Oh yeah, that trail coffee was as bitter as hell,” Gibbs admitted.

 

“He must have added the grounds to boiling water, and scalded it,” Tony said knowledgably. Gibbs eyed him curiously, so Tony explained, “When I was stuck in Yale Summer Camp for Gifted Kids, we had access to the library. I read everything I could about cowboy lore, and all the Zane Gray novels – did you know his first name was Pearl and he was a dentist? – and there were some really cool old history books about the westward expansion. Anyway, I perfected brewing coffee when I was there. Had full run of the lab after hours.” He could tell by the way Gibbs was scrutinizing him, that he wasn’t quite sure if Tony was feeding him a line.

 

“How old were you?”

 

“Just turned eleven. We crafted international policy and reenacted important moments in American history. Made s’mores over Bunsen burners in the lab. Peeked in the windows of the college girls’ dorms. Crazy times!”

 

“Huh, you a nerd?”

 

“Sort of, but don’t tell anyone,” Tony pled.

 

“Nobody’d believe it,” Gibbs said as he unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. He cast a sideways look at Tony, who started eating the pizza as if starved, which he was.

 

“Mmm. Not bad, Boss,” Tony said with an appreciative nod.

 

After finishing half his sandwich, Gibbs asked, “So, did the cowboy experience up there on Mount Pinos live up to your expectations?”

 

Tony thought for a moment and then nodded. “It was a little rough at times. If I’d known, I would have worn padded bike shorts under my jeans, and packed something to eat other than beans, but yeah, it was fun.” Not that the sheriff had offered him any of the beans he’d cooked up. That was probably due to Tony’s reenactment of the farting-around-the-campfire routine from _Blazing Saddles_. Some people just didn’t get it. “Except for the crazy dude in the helo taking pot shots at you. That wasn’t fun.”

 

“Got him, didn’t I?” Gibbs asked, looking satisfied.

 

“Yeah, but it was a little hairy there for a few minutes,” Tony pointed out.

 

Gibbs shrugged, as if it was all in a day’s work.

 

Tony drank his soda right down to the crushed ice cubes, making slurping noises to annoy Gibbs. Just before Gibbs delivered a slap to his head, Tony let up and gave a satisfied sigh. When Tony saw Gibbs glance at his watch, he said, “While you were in pursuit of the perfect cup of java, I checked on the flight. It’s on time. I gotta tell you, with my rear end so saddle-sore, I am _not_ looking forward to spending the next five hours squished in an airplane seat with some stranger’s elbow in my ribs.” Gibbs raised an eyebrow, so Tony quickly amended, “Although sitting next to you, Boss, always makes for a great flight experience.”

 

Smiling, Gibbs started to reply, but his cell phone rang. He squinted at the number before answering it. “What, McGee?” Gibbs listened for a moment, and then said, sounding irritated, “Tell them to secure the scene and not to touch anything….No!...You think I’m gonna let the locals handle it? Send the details to DiNozzo’s phone.”

 

Tony got the gist of the conversation, and his heart sank. “Change of plans?” Maybe, after they did whatever it was they had to do, they’d be able to stay overnight in a nearby hotel before returning home, in a nice room with a bathtub. Yeah, that would be good.

 

His mouth compressed in a grim line, Gibbs picked up his coffee and stalked off to the airline counter. Tony stayed put and wolfed down the rest of his slice, experience telling him it could very well be his last chance to eat for several hours.

 

After a few minutes, Gibbs returned, looking even more annoyed than usual. “We have another assignment. We’ll have to drive.”

 

“Drive?”

 

“There’s no flight until tonight. Grab your gear.” He picked up his coffee and his bag and did an about face, leaving Tony to follow.

 

Tony grabbed his go bag and the other half of Gibbs’ sandwich, and hurried after his boss, wondering where they were headed. Obviously not back to DC. They ended up in front of a car rental agency booth, where Gibbs arranged for a car with his usual efficiency.

 

It wasn’t until he had followed Gibbs out of the terminal and into the scorching heat, and they were walking across the large parking lot, that Tony asked, “Uh…where’re we heading, and why, Boss?”

 

Gibbs never broke stride as he replied, “Vegas. We were just informed that our hired killer kept a condo there.”

 

“Can’t one of our agents from the area process any evidence? Agent Blackstead is assigned to the NCISRU in Fallon.”

 

“In Fallon,” Gibbs repeated.

 

“It’s in Nevada,” Tony said helpfully.

 

Gibbs glared at him. “I know where Fallon is. You think I’m going to hand over the investigation into Agent Patterson’s murder to another agent, DiNozzo?”

 

“No, of course not.” It was over four hours’ drive to Vegas, and sitting in a rental car wasn’t going to do his aching muscles any good. Tony looked longingly over his shoulder at the airport terminal as he jogged along. “You think they sell horse liniment in the gift shop?”

 

“Why, are you thinking of horseback riding all the way to Vegas?” Gibbs asked.

 

“It’s for my saddle-sore ass,” Tony replied, whining a bit.

 

Gibbs stopped in front of a gray sedan and unlocked it. “Horse liniment isn’t for people; it’s for horses. Anyway, we don’t have time for a shopping trip.”

 

Tony asked, “You don’t happen to have any Ben Gay with you? You know, like for your knee…”

 

Gibbs glared at him.

 

“Okay, I guess not.”

 

“Get in the car, DiNozzo, or I’ll be riding your ass all the way to Vegas.”

 

There were so many ways he could respond to that, but Tony kept his mouth shut and gingerly eased into the car. Without looking at his second-in-command, Gibbs started the car, shoved the air conditioning on high, and pulled out of the parking space. Within minutes he was speeding along the highway, whizzing past the sign that read, “Vegas 298 Miles.”

 ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 


	2. You're So Square

**CHAPTER 2**

**_(You're So Square) Baby I Don't Care_**  
_~Elvis song_

_You don't like crazy music._   
_You don't like rockin' bands._   
_You just wanna go to a movie show,_   
_And sit there holdin' hands._   
_You're so square._   
_Baby, I don't care._

_I don't know why my heart flips._  
 _I only know it does._  
 _I wonder why I love you, baby._  
 _I guess it's just because_  
 _You're so square._  
 _Baby, I don't care._  


  

The closest Tony had ever come to quitting was four months ago, due to the mishandling of the Domino operation.

 

Gibbs had actually told him: “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I didn’t let you in because I didn’t have to.”

 

Tony had barely held his temper in check. “We came _that_ close to being killed. A heads-up would have been nice.”

 

Gibbs, standing straight as a rod, had glared at Tony and stated that he stood by his decision. Tony didn’t take it well, and in retrospect, he realized that it probably wasn’t a great idea to shout at the boss. Gibbs had muttered something about cooling off and stalked from the room before either of them threw any punches. It was a close call though.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

For two long weeks, Tony wore his sharpest suits, and buckled down to work while he blatantly avoided looking directly at Gibbs, and kept all communication to a minimum. As for Gibbs, he conducted business as if there was nothing going on between him and Tony, when it was obvious that there was. Ziva and McGee kept pushing Tony to fix whatever was wrong, wherein Gibbs snapped at them for harassing Tony and threatened them, “If you don’t find something constructive to do in the next five seconds, I’ll put you on latrine duty.” After that they kept out of it, although McGee cast not-too-subtle worried glances at his boss and Tony.

 

When it looked as though neither man was going to offer a truce anytime soon, and Gibbs became so grouchy that even Director Vance avoided him, Ducky took Gibbs and Tony out for a meal. If the food was good, the company was not. Gibbs said barely a word. Tony made up for it by chatting a little too brightly. As the awkward dinner progressed, Ducky told them engaging stories that centered upon themes of trust and lifelong friendships, and he mused about how some people were blind to what was right in front of them.

 

When he finished his meal, and the accompanying tales, Ducky calmly rose from the table and announced that he had had a long day, and was heading home. “You two should remain here and discuss whatever is causing your current animosity.”

 

“Is that an order, Ducky?” Gibbs asked, his tone dangerous.

 

Ducky wasn’t fazed by Gibbs’ attitude. “It is a suggestion, one you should heed before your differences tear apart your friendship, as well as your ability to work together. I hope you realize this affects everyone around you? Good evening, gentlemen.”

 

As soon as Ducky left, Gibbs sighed and asked Tony, “You want another drink?”

 

Tony shook his head. “School night. My boss wouldn’t like it.”

 

Gibbs took a breath before saying, “Yeah, well, the boss is an asshole at times. Just have a damned drink.”

 

Tony couldn’t have been more surprised at Gibbs’ admission. He could have teased him about it, or asked if it was an apology of sorts, but instead Tony nodded and led the way to the bar. One drink was followed by another, and eventually the two men started talking and hashed out their grievances.

 

Gibbs allowed that he’d been wrong to send Tony into a dangerous situation without adequate background information or backup. “Shoulda kept you in the loop. You coulda got hurt,” he said, sounding troubled and somewhat angry.

 

“Ziva disobeyed a direct order to stand down.” Tony rarely said anything against his colleagues, but this time it seemed necessary.

 

“It’s already in her file,” Gibbs said.

 

Another surprise. Tony hadn’t expected that; he’d thought Gibbs hadn’t even paid attention to his report, filed as soon as he’d been released from the hospital, after being bashed in the face with the butt of a gun. Now that he had Gibbs’ ear, Tony figured it was a good time to get it all out. “You need to trust me, Gibbs.”

 

Gibbs looked surprised. “I do.”

 

“Then you need to remember that the T in MCRT is for team,” Tony emphasized.

 

Gibbs sighed impatiently. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes I need reminding.”

 

“And that’s where I come in,” Tony said with a nod.

 

“Why’d you think I’ve kept you around so long?” Gibbs drained his glass and looked at Tony. “We done?”

 

Smiling, Tony nodded. “Yeah. We’re good.”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

A couple of days before Christmas, Gibbs surprised Tony by asking him to spend the holidays at his home. He did it in his usual backhanded way. “You coming over?”

 

“When?”

 

Gibbs cast a look at Tony that suggested he thought Tony was purposely playing dumb. “Christmas. No point in you being alone on the other side of town.”

 

Tony stiffened, acting affronted. “You’re assuming I don’t have plans.”

 

“Well do you?” Gibbs asked with a knowing smirk.

 

“Well, no, but that’s not the point.”

 

“No?”

 

Tony frowned at Gibbs and then asked, “Do you have a Christmas tree?”

 

“Nope. Got a couple of prime steaks though.”

 

Tony made a show of thinking it over. “Well…I guess I could come for steak. I get to choose the movie we watch, right?”

 

Gibbs nodded in agreement. “And I get to choose if I watch it or not.”

 

Tony quickly said, “Don’t worry, I’ll find a movie you’ll like. You have to at least try to watch it. For me.” Gibbs reluctantly agreed, and Tony felt as if he’d won a major battle.

 

On Christmas Eve, they settled down on Gibbs’ old couch to watch _Joyeux Noel_ , a 2005 French film about an unofficial Christmas truce on the front lines of WWI in 1914. Gibbs enjoyed the movie, and Tony enjoyed watching Gibbs enjoy it.

 

As soon as Tony rose and said he was going to bed, Gibbs pulled out a pillow and blanket and tossed them on the couch. Tony eyed the sleeping set-up and asked, “You sure you don’t want to take one of the beds upstairs? Better for your back.”

 

“I sleep here,” Gibbs said, as if that was the end of the conversation. He added another log to the fire and poked at it.

 

“Okay, well, Merry Christmas, Gibbs,” Tony said, wondering why Gibbs didn’t turn around to at least say good night to him. When Gibbs switched off the light without saying a word, Tony headed for the stairs, suddenly feeling quite lonely.

 

Just then Gibbs said abruptly, “We’re leaving at zero-five-hundred tomorrow.”

 

Tony took a few steps back into the living room. Gibbs was standing in the near-dark, outlined by the glow of a streetlamp. His eyes were on Tony, waiting for an answer, even though he hadn’t asked anything.

 

“Leaving?” Tony inquired.

 

Gibbs said, “Stillwater. Gotta see my dad.”

 

Wondering if he’d missed something, Tony asked, “On Christmas morning?” Did the ‘we’ mean Gibbs and Tony? Was he really being invited along? He’d love to see Gibbs’ dad again; the last time had been way too brief.

 

“You coming or not?”

 

Tony smiled happily. “Sure. You know I wouldn’t miss the chance to see Jackson again.”

 

“Turn out the hall light,” Gibbs said, ending the stilted conversation. He stripped off his trousers and shirt and climbed into his makeshift bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulder.

 

“Good night, Boss,” Tony said softly as he started up the stairs. He wasn’t sure if the muffled grunt he heard from Gibbs was a ‘good night,’ but he liked to think it was.

 

When Gibbs had stopped for gas at a truck stop on the way to Stillwater, Tony had bought chocolates and nuts, a bright red travel mug that heated your beverage, a couple of cinnamon-scented candles, a boxed set of holiday DVDs, and six lottery tickets. Most of the small gifts went to Jackson (wrapped in a map of Virginia), but the mug was for Gibbs, and he divided the lottery tickets between the three of them. Jackson seemed genuinely happy to receive the small items and his son immediately tested out the heated coffee mug.

 

Tony was thrilled to spend Christmas with Gibbs and his father. Jackson Gibbs more than made up for his son’s apparent lack of holiday spirit; his house was decked out with a big Christmas tree covered in ornaments, and there were freshly cut pine boughs and decorations everywhere. For the first time in many years, Tony enjoyed a real family Christmas, with good food, homey decorations, and the exchange of simple gifts.

 

That evening, they sat in comfortable old chairs in front of the fire, and Jackson pulled out a battered ukulele and sang _White Christmas._ Although Jethro made out that he didn’t like the noise, Tony saw his lips moving during the refrain. The best thing of all was hearing Jackson tell stories of Jethro-as-a-boy. Seeing the boss’s cheeks redden with embarrassment made the all-too-brief visit just about perfect.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

A couple of weeks later, prior to the murder of Special Agent Patterson, Gibbs gave Tony free rein with the Renny Grant investigation. Tony concluded it was equal parts of Gibbs proving he trusted Tony, and the rest was enforcing rule #45: Clean up your own mess. Concluding the case in his own way had given Tony a much-needed boost of confidence, which had diminished somewhat in the wake of Jenny’s death. Being isolated out at sea, separated so abruptly from the only family he’d known, had taken a lot out of him. With the case wrapped up, Tony allowed Renny Grant to make off with enough money to compensate for being wrongly imprisoned, and best of all, Gibbs seemed okay with it, and actually smiled at him, which was huge. It seemed as though things were finally looking up.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

“You want to eat?”

 

“Sure. Can I cook for you?” Tony was good at a few Italian dishes, and he liked to show off his culinary skills, which included creating the perfect sauce for his homemade pasta.

 

After a pause, during which Gibbs seemed to be weighing his options, he asked, “Your place?”

 

“You can bring something to drink,” Tony suggested, sure it would be beer, but not really minding. He immediately started going over recipes in his mind, trying to decide what Gibbs would enjoy the most.

 

Gibbs surprised him by bringing a bottle wine that was not only a decent vintage, but complimented the meal. “Not bad,” Gibbs said after sipping the wine.

 

“This is nice,” Tony said.

 

Gibbs shifted in his seat. “The girl in the wine shop helped me.”

 

Tony chuckled. “The wine is good, but I meant the company was nice.” Tony smiled at the slight blush climbing Gibbs’ neck. Gibbs raised his glass in a silent toast, and Tony could clearly see the happiness in his eyes. He smiled back, finding his own face heating up. It felt as though they were treading down a new road, and although he wasn’t sure where it was going to take them, Tony had a feeling it was towards something good.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

“Got an extra ticket to the Wizards game.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to take Fornell?” Tony asked.

 

“Why the hell would I ask him? Look, if you don’t want to go…”

 

Gibbs turned away but Tony snatched one of the tickets out of his hand. “I want to go,” he said quickly, clasping the ticket to his chest.

 

“Then stop playing games,” Gibbs responded, sounding testy. “Pick you up at 1800.”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

One cold Sunday morning, Gibbs called Tony for a ride to the Y, where he sometimes played pick-up basketball. “Truck’s acting up,” was the reason.

 

When he got to Gibbs’ house, Tony offered to look at the truck, to which Gibbs replied testily, “If I wanted you to look at my truck, I’d have asked you to look at my truck, DiNozzo. I asked for a ride to the Y.”

 

“Geez, okay, okay!” Tony said, holding his hands up in defense.

 

Gibbs looked at Tony’s loafers. “You need sneakers if you’re gonna play.”

 

“I’m going to play?” Tony asked. Gibbs played with older jarheads as a rule, and he’d never been invited to join in before.

 

Gibbs asked, “You’d rather sit on the bleachers with the wives?”

 

“Depends on how cute they are,” Tony retorted, and when it looked like Gibbs was about to head slap him, he quickly stepped out of the way. “You do that on the court, and I’ll have the ref throw you out of the game,” he threatened.

 

“Who the hell d’you think is gonna be the referee?” Gibbs asked with a roll of the eyes.

 

“Me? I can’t wear stripes, Boss!”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Gibbs phoned Tony at 0600 on their first day off in weeks. “I’ll bring the coffee.”

 

Still bleary with sleep, Tony rubbed his eyes. “Huh?”

 

“Coffee,” Gibbs said, as if that explained everything.

 

“We got a case, Boss?” Tony sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his head and yawned.

 

There was a muttered expletive on the other end of the line, and then Gibbs said, slowly, “You wanted to go for a run. Be here in twenty or else I’m going without you.”

 

Oh yeah, they’d talked about running together before leaving work last night. There were trails around the lake near Gibbs’ home, where they liked to run when the weather, and Gibbs’ knees, were agreeable.

 

For a moment, Tony considered his options. He could go back to sleep, which he needed really badly after a couple of back-to-back cases, or he could work up a sweat with Gibbs. Tony imagined watching the older man’s well-muscled legs and ass, hard at work, as he trailed along behind him. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” Tony said, hanging up abruptly and rushing to get dressed.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Sometimes, when Gibbs tackled some of the bigger jobs around his house, he’d ask Tony to lend a hand. Together they cleaned the gutters of fall leaves, replaced the hot water heater, and they sealed Gibbs’ driveway on what had to have been the hottest May Day on record. Tony whined non-stop for an hour when he discovered that the tarry sealant splattered on their arms and legs was a bitch to remove. Gibbs ordered him to hold still while he rubbed Tony down with a filthy rag that smelled as though it was soaked in kerosene. It did the trick, but it dried out Tony’s skin so badly he had to apply a liberal amount of moisturizer for the next few days.

 

While they worked around his house, Gibbs gave Tony orders, much as he did while on the job. At home though, his directions were tempered with encouragement and the rare smile. Although Tony didn’t care much for the actual chores, simply being in Gibbs’ company made it seem worthwhile.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

It meant a great deal to Tony that Gibbs liked his company outside of work. Being with Gibbs afforded Tony experiences he’d never had with his own father: friendship, companionship, and someone who actually cared about him.

 

They went camping a couple of times, took in the horse races at Laurel Park, and checked out the car rally just south of Frostburg. In September they hung out with some of Gibbs’ old Marine buddies at the annual VA Center Dinner, where Tony helped dole out the food and took a lot of guff for having worked for Gibbs for so long.

 

Gibbs took Tony along when he spent an entire day scouring marine junkyards up the coast for some obscure engine part for his sailboat’s two-cylinder diesel. On the way home they enjoyed a crab dinner on the deck of a no-star restaurant that had a four-star view of the water. They had a good meal, even engaged in a real conversation in which Gibbs talked in complete sentences. By the time they’d polished off a bottle of cheap but good wine, they were both laughing over something – Tony wasn’t sure what had started it – and when Gibbs threw his head back in laughter, Tony thought it was just about the best thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

 

As he drifted off to sleep that night, back in his own bed, Tony smiled at the memories. It had been a great end to the day, and the setting sun over the water had seemed almost romantic. Or it would have been romantic if one of them had been of the opposite sex. Or, if they’d been the same sex and were interested in each other, Tony thought dreamily – then it would have been perfect.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 


	3. I'll Take Love

**CHAPTER 3**

**_I'll Take Love_**  
_~Elvis song_

 _Some people think that pot of gold_  
_Is all they ever want to hold_  
 _But there's a treasure, I think more of_  
 _Measure for measure. . .I'll take love_

 

As they sped down the highway on the way to Las Vegas, Tony called McGee and got details of the latest developments in the case.

 

McGee relayed the information that the paid killer’s name was Jerome Sax. “FBI lifted a thumbprint off his body. Jerome Sax lived in Oregon. Had a wife and two kids. Wife thought he was a factory rep who traveled out of town on company business. So far, ballistics tie him to four unsolved murders. We think there'll be more.” McGee also let Tony know that Director Vance had arranged for the local sheriff to interview Jerome Sax’s wife, so they didn’t have to go to Oregon.

 

“Gibbs won’t like that,” Tony said quietly to McGee, even though Gibbs was sitting right next to him and could hear his side of the conversation. “Tell me, Probie, this Sax, he was a churchgoing man, belonged to the Masons, and was a Boy Scout leader?”

 

“A deacon of his church, yeah. How’d you know?”

 

Tony smiled in satisfaction. “I’m a trained investigator. Besides, it’s like with serial killers. People who encounter them every day are under the impression they’re upstanding citizens. You know: ‘Gosh, Officer, we never had any idea he had all those bodies buried in his basement. He sang in the choir.’ It’s part of the thrill, being able to pull the wool over all the little sheep’s eyes.”

 

McGee gave Tony an address in downtown Las Vegas, and said, “The wife told the FBI agent that her husband used the Vegas condo for business only. She’s never been there.”

 

“Business only? That’s a good one,” Tony said with a grin. “So Mr. Sax, upright citizen by day, paid assassin for Sunset Mining by night, liked some action, did he? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

 

“Well, if he did, that’s the place to be,” McGee agreed. “Maybe Sax was connected. He might have been bankrolled by someone in Vegas. Also, our agents stopped the CEO of Sunset Mining at LAX, just as he was boarding a flight to Mexico. He is currently being questioned by our agents there. Before the CEO lawyered up, he admitted they hired Sax for this one job, but only to keep claim jumpers away.”

 

“Find out if Sax liked gambling; Vegas is a good place to launder ill-gotten gains. I’ll bet he has a nice fat bank account somewhere offshore,” Tony said, pondering aloud as to whether the man’s money would have been banked in the Caymans or Switzerland.

 

Gibbs looked sideways at Tony. “Enough guessing. Stick to the facts,” he said. Raising his voice, he added, “McGee, follow the money.”

 

McGee acknowledged that he’d heard Gibbs. “Got it, Boss!”

 

Gibbs barked, “Follow up on the interviews in Oregon and L.A., and I want the reports, and any evidence, on my desk by the time we get back.”

 

Tony asked, “You hear that McFollowUp? I’ll call you as soon as we check out Sax’s condo. It’ll be in about five hours…” Tony glanced at the speedometer and said to McGee, “Uh, change that to three hours, at the rate we’re going.”

 

McGee chuckled. “Too bad you’ll be whizzing by all the sights. Old mining towns, the turtle sanctuary…There’s a place that makes the best ribs in Wikieup, the Joshua tree forest, and of course, the Hoover Dam…”

 

“We stopping at the Hoover Dam?” Tony took in Gibbs’ set expression, so he reported to McGee, “Looks like I’d better not blink when we go across the dam. It’s straight to Las Vegas!”

 

McGee said, “Just watch yourself at the tables. We both know how much you like sparkly things. And no counting cards, or you’ll get your kneecaps broken.”

 

“Gee, thanks. Only this isn’t _Rain Man_ ,” Tony retorted. “Or _The Hangover_.”

 

“No drinking on the job, DiNozzo,” Gibbs added, apparently able to hear the entire conversation.

 

“Oh no, _The Hangover’s_ the name of a movie, Boss,” Tony said. Gibbs ignored him.

 

McGee asked, “ _Lost in America_?”

 

“Oooh, I know! _Casino_! DeNiro, and Sharon Stone, so tall, cool and blond,” Tony said with a sigh. “Until she had a thing going with cocaine.” Gibbs gave him a sideways glance, frowning. “It’s a movie, Boss,” Tony reiterated. Gibbs snorted and went back to watching the road.

 

“ _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_?” McGee parried.

 

Tony laughed. “Yeah! ‘High-powered mutants…too weird to live, and too rare to die.’”

 

Gibbs shook his head and stomped on the accelerator. Tony scrambled to hang on as they passed a semi at such a fast clip that it seemed to be standing still.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Tony fell asleep somewhere around Chloride and almost missed the Hoover Dam. He awoke as Gibbs pulled over to park, and although he felt stiff and achy, the rental’s seats had turned out to be pretty well padded, to his relief. They both got out to stretch, and Gibbs decided they had time to walk across the dam.

 

As Tony looked back in the direction of the Arizona hills, he found it hard to believe that only that morning Gibbs had shot down a helicopter there, and had killed the man who had murdered a fellow NCIS agent. Gibbs was following the direction in which he was looking, so Tony gave him a wide smile. “That was a damned good shot, Boss.”

 

Gibbs gave him a nod of acknowledgment and stopped to look down at the rushing water. Tony took a quick look at his wristwatch before peering over the concrete wall to see the river. He thought about a conversation he’d had with Gibbs last night, as they’d sat around the campfire they’d built. He’d looked at his watch, he remembered.

 

Gibbs had asked, his tone sharp with displeasure, “What time is it in London, DiNozzo?”

 

Tony had answered mildly, “It's three a.m. Six hours ‘til I can make the call.”

  
“You're not gonna be with this agency much longer? You get that inheritance, maybe you’ll think about retiring,” Gibbs said, as if it were a done deal.

 

Tony turned to stare at Gibbs, wondering what bug had crawled up his ass, and he’d been about to ask that very question when Gibbs’ cell rang. It was McGee with an update, but Tony hadn’t even listened in on the conversation, he’d been so angry. Was it too much to expect the man to be at least a little happy for him, even if it wasn’t yet certain he’d inherit anything?

 

Being mentioned in Uncle Clive’s will meant a lot to Tony, and not entirely because of the large sum involved. His uncle must have thought well of him to consider him in the first place, although Clive had always had a soft spot for Tony’s mother.

 

Uncle Clive had been a wonderful host the summer before Tony started college. He had shown Tony around London, and they had traveled to France for a week before Tony had to return home, and to Ohio State. Even though Tony hadn’t seen his uncle in several years, they’d kept in touch through letters and the occasional phone call, right up to his uncle’s death six months ago.

 

For Gibbs to practically sneer at his expectations annoyed Tony. It was as if he was saying, ‘No way would anyone leave you anything, DiNozzo.’ That he was being a fool, and was sure to get his hopes dashed. Maybe that would turn out to be true, but Gibbs didn’t have to stomp on his hopes so cruelly.

 

After he’d finished talking to McGee, Gibbs rolled into his sleeping bag without so much as a good night. Tony had found it impossible to get to sleep, and blamed his tossing and turning not only on the cold, rocky ground, but also upon Gibbs’ snores. One moment, Tony was thinking he would never fall asleep, and the next, he was rudely awakened by the clatter of the coffeepot and the sound of Gibbs and the Sheriff discussing their plans.

 

Tony had shuffled around, stooped over like an old man, and grumbling about his aching muscles. Somehow – probably due to those superpowers that Abby was always asserting Gibbs posessed – Gibbs didn’t seemed at all affected by the previous day’s strenuous horseback riding. While Gibbs was quick to help Boyd break down the camp and saddle the horses, Tony was massaging his butt and wondering if there was any way of getting out of mounting a horse again. When they broke camp and mounted up, the sheriff walked past Tony, muttering, “Tenderfoot.”

 

Getting back on his horse had been a challenge, and it took everything in Tony’s power to remain in the saddle on the ride up to the remote cabin. Once they’d located the artist, Dina Risi, riding back down the rocky trail had turned out to be even less fun than the ride up, and when Gibbs said they had to ride as fast as they could, Tony almost gave up then and there. But Gibbs relied upon him to protect Dina Risi, and no way was Tony going to let him down.

 

“Can you get nerve damage in your buttocks?” Tony asked with a whine.

 

Gibbs didn’t even try to hide his grin. “You're gonna feel worse in the morning.” 

 

“Don't say that, please.” 

 

They weren’t even halfway down the trail when they came under fire from the sharp-shooting killer in a Sunset Mining helicopter. Even as Jerome Sax laid down heavy fire, Gibbs stood out in the open on the trail, dangerously exposed as he took his time to get his shot. It was one of the bravest things Tony had ever witnessed. And the stupidest, too.

 

Afterwards, with anger spurred on by fear, Tony barely stopped himself from slapping Gibbs on the back of the head for pulling such a reckless stunt. “You didn’t have to stand out there in the open. There were plenty of good rocks for cover, Boss!”

 

“You telling me how to shoot, DiNozzo?”

 

“I’m telling you that you took an unnecessary chance and you might have been shot,” Tony replied heatedly.

 

“Well, I didn’t get shot,” Gibbs responded, his tone dismissive.

 

“No, but the sheriff did, and some of those bullets came damned close, and you were standing there…” Tony choked back the rest of his words. Sending Gibbs a black look, Tony said, between clenched teeth, “Last thing I want to do is drag both of your sorry carcasses all the way down to Phoenix–“

 

Before Gibbs could light into Tony, Boyd cut in, shouting at them, “Am I gonna spend the entire night lyin’ in the middle of the trail?”

 

Dina grabbed Tony’s arm, pulling him away, and between them, they managed to round up the stray horses. The cavalry, in the form of park rangers and sheriff’s deputies, had arrived by helicopter, having been notified by McGee in MTAC, and the injured Sheriff Boyd was airlifted to the nearest hospital.

 

By the time representatives from three environmental agencies turned up to investigate the helicopter crash, Gibbs and Tony had put aside their anger and quickly and efficiently documented the scene. They then arranged for the sheriff’s department to handle the transport of Jerome Sax’s body to Phoenix, where Dr. Mallard would remotely conduct the autopsy, rather than transport the assassin’s remains back to DC.

 

Gibbs, Tony, and Dina – who had set off the whole chain of events by discovering uranium in the soil she ground into paint pigments – rode the horses down the trail to where they’d left their vehicles.

 

Tony and Gibbs retrieved their rented 4x4 Jeep from where they’d parked it at the base of the trail, and arrived at the sheriff’s department in Phoenix that afternoon. Dina drove the sheriff’s horse trailer, now holding four tired horses, to the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office stables. By the time Dina finished giving her statement, she looked ready to drop. From the office Gibbs commandeered at the sheriff’s headquarters, the two NCIS agents then dealt with the FBI, representatives of the mining board and other authorities, before finally heading to the airport to get back home.

 

Dina said goodbye, even going so far as to hug Gibbs, while assuring them she was going to visit Sheriff Boyd in the hospital, and would be staying with friends in town. As a safeguard, Gibbs arranged for the FBI to assign an agent for her protection, until the case was wrapped up.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

It was still light when they drove over Hoover Dam, and Gibbs slowed down enough for Tony to get a view of the massive structure. “Might as well stretch our legs,” Gibbs said, pulling over in a parking lot on the Nevada side. It took Tony a couple of minutes to unfold himself from the rental car and by the time he’d stretched his back, Gibbs had ambled ahead. It hurt to move, but Tony hurried after Gibbs, who was looking over the wall at the water pouring from the sluices in the dam.

 

Gibbs sent a sideways look at Tony. “You still hurting?”

 

“Only certain parts of me,” Tony replied, wincing as he flexed his shoulders. He looked Gibbs up and down curiously. “How come you’re not in any pain?”

 

Gibbs deadpanned, “Who says I’m not?”

 

“Wow, you’re really good at hiding it then,” Tony said in admiration.

 

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were good at undercover, DiNozzo.”

 

Flustered, Tony shrugged a little. “Yeah, but only when I’m on the job. This is time off. Besides, horseback riding uses a whole other set of muscles, ones I’m not used to using.”

 

“You’ve gotta learn to relax and enjoy it. It feels good to have seventeen hands between your legs.”

 

Tony stared at Gibbs, wondering if that comment was as laced with innuendo as he suspected it was. Gibbs held his gaze for a long five seconds, before he turned away and leaned against the high guard rail to peer down at the water cascading through the sluices.

 

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll remember it next time I…ride,” Tony replied, watching Gibbs with suspicion. He could have sworn he saw the man’s lips twitch, but he blinked and the slight smirk was gone. Gibbs moved along to get a better view of the dam, and Tony glanced at his watch before following him. Tony swore, “Damn!” Gibbs sent him an inquiring look. “I missed my call from London.”

 

“They’ll still be there tomorrow,” Gibbs replied in a cursory tone.

 

“It’s a seven-hour difference from here, isn’t it? Or did you drive so fast you broke the time barrier?” Tony tapped the glass on his Versace watch and made a show of holding it to his ear. Not that he could hear the ticking over the roar of the water. “It’s been losing time. I guess I should put a new watch on my shopping list.”

 

“You expecting a windfall?” Gibbs asked, his eyes flinty.

 

“Well, I won’t know for certain until I talk to Mr. Hubbard. Sometime tomorrow.” Tony started to calculate the time difference to figure out his window of opportunity. Back in DC, he’d expect to get a call from his late uncle’s solicitor by lunchtime, or else he’d have to wait another day.

 

Gibbs gazed over the impressive river and cliffs of the Colorado River and asked casually, “You never said, are you leaving us?”

 

Tony wasn’t fooled by the offhanded delivery; he could tell Gibbs wasn’t happy he might be leaving. “You’ll miss me, Boss?”

 

That made Gibbs turn and look at him, and for a moment he seemed angry, before presenting an impassive stare. Gibbs hesitated, and then said in a surprisingly soft tone, “It seems like I just broke you in.”

 

“I haven’t been a probie for some time,” Tony gently reminded him. “Eight years. Not that I was a probie when I started at NCIS.”

 

Gibbs gave a small grunt. “It’s been that long?” As they walked back in the direction of the car, Gibbs asked, “You take after this uncle of yours?”

 

“Uncle Clive? Oh yeah.” Tony laughed, and proceeded to tell Gibbs about how his uncle had taken him to a gambling club in London when he was barely eighteen, and how he had played baccarat so well that the seasoned gamblers at the table had each bought him a drink. “I read up on the game after seeing James Blond play in _Dr. No_. Of course my uncle only allowed me to have one drink.”

 

Gibbs gave a crooked smile and said, “Don’t tell me. It was a martini, shaken, not stirred.” Tony laughed and started to move along, but Gibbs reached out for his arm and brought him to a halt. “Are you leaving me, DiNozzo?”

 

For a moment, Tony was going to make light of the situation, but Gibbs’ troubled expression made him change his mind. “I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even know how much money my uncle is leaving me, if any. For all I know, he giving all thirty-five million to an old cats’ home.”

 

Gibbs stared at him with slightly glazed eyes. “How much?”

 

“Seventeen million pounds. He made a fortune in North Sea gas, but there’s family money, too,” Tony said, feeling somewhat self-conscious. “Even if I am lucky enough get any of the family fortune, that doesn’t mean my life is going to change drastically.”

 

Gibbs looked at him skeptically. “You sure about that?”

 

“Okay, so I’d get a nicer place to live, with a working elevator and a pool. And I’d probably buy a car. Or two. It would be nice to be able to buy some things for my friends. I’d definitely like to travel a bit, but…this is all wishful thinking. I can’t say what I plan to do at this point.” Tony stopped in his tracks when it struck him that his father would be on his doorstep the second he got wind of any inheritance. “I can’t let it become general knowledge. If my dad finds out…”

 

Gibbs grunted in agreement and stared down at the water rushing down the spillway. “You won’t stay if you’ve got money burning a hole in your pocket,” he said, sounding sure.

 

“You think I’d just up and leave everything behind?” asked Tony, a little hurt.

 

Gibbs turned to look Tony directly in the eye. “You’ve done it before.”

 

Tony stiffened. “I’ve stayed at NCIS for eight years now. And, believe me, it’s been pretty rough at times.” Even when a promotion overseas had been offered to him on a gilded platter, he had remained faithful. Now he was starting to wonder why.

 

Gibbs bowed his head and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“You know about…? Oh, of course you do,” Tony said sourly. Gibbs might not say much, but he heard everything. “Still, maybe you don’t know why I left my previous jobs. I left Peoria for a promotion at a bigger police force, and I moved on from Philly because Baltimore recruited me for homicide,” Tony corrected his boss. “They selected me out of a field of a hundred applicants.”

 

“Yeah, I know that,” Gibbs said, his words unusually soft. With his eyes shining with pride, he admitted, “You could have had your own team by now, and we both know that.” He looked long and hard at Tony and said firmly, “You deserve better but I still don’t want you to go.”

 

Stunned that Gibbs would express that sentiment aloud, and curious as to why the man’s cheeks would color while uttering those words, Tony was moved to say, “I wasn't _planning_ on leaving, but...” He paused in thought. “But that doesn't mean I haven't thought of teaching film studies, or heading west and seeing what's over the horizon, maybe finding a tropical island with beautiful dark-haired women and long stretches of pristine white sand. I’ve thought about riding a Harley along Route 66 and trying my hand at writing the great American novel.”

 

“That's not thinking, that's dreaming,” Gibbs growled.

 

“You telling me not to dream? Besides, with the right funding, any dream can become a reality.” Tony was used to his boss being annoyed with him, and over the years he had grown somewhat inured to Gibbs’ irritated glances, dark glares and tight lips. Tony had always felt a twisted kind of satisfaction for being able to push Gibbs’ buttons with such accuracy. But this time, the look Gibbs was giving him held something other than the expected frustration. This time the expression in Gibbs’ eyes was so unusual that it took Tony a moment to decipher the emotion that lay deep in those cool blue eyes. There was a sense of. . . well, of loss emanating from the older man. Unable to figure out why Gibbs should be looking as though he had just lost his best friend, when Tony had clearly said he wasn’t leaving Gibbs’ team, at least not without some serious consideration, he repeated, "But I am not going anywhere."

 

"You sure about that? Because it sounds like you're ready to buy a one way ticket to Tahiti," Gibbs retorted, sounding decidedly short-tempered and a tiny bit desperate.

 

Confused as to what was going on, Tony did his best to smile reassuringly. "No, I'm good here. Well, not _here_ in Nevada, because there’s valley fever, and scorpions and all that horseback riding, but _here_ , as in DC." Gibbs still seemed skeptical, so Tony said, "I think I've proven my expiration date of two years per job is a thing of the past."

 

For some reason, that didn't sit well with Gibbs. He looked angrier than ever, and even snorted.

 

Tony's smile faded. "What? You think otherwise?"

 

“Why didn't you take that promotion Jenny offered you?”

 

“I...I didn't want to. I couldn't...”

 

“You couldn't leave?” Gibbs demanded. “Why not? You were too busy babysitting me, was that it?”

 

“I couldn't leave, not when you were stumbling around unable to remember things. Why are you so mad? It’s the truth. It takes a while to come back from that kind of injury.”

 

Gibbs made an abrupt gesture with his hand, clearly frustrated. “I would’ve managed. Why do you let everyone think you got fired from those jobs in Peoria and Philly?”

 

“What? I don’t…”

 

“Ziva thinks you left Philadelphia just as they were about to toss you out on your ear. McGee has made it clear he thinks you're not capable of handling your own team. You put up with their crap for months when I was gone. Why would you do that?”

 

“Because…” He wasn’t going to explain himself. No way.

 

Gibbs stepped up to Tony and got right in his face, his eyes blazing. “Why?”

 

“Because they wanted you, and apparently I was a poor substitute,” Tony said, more vehemently than he’d intended.

 

“The hell with what they wanted. You were the boss, Tony. You earned the right to put them in their place,” Gibbs insisted.

 

“We don't all run the ship like it’s the first week on Parris Island!”

 

“But you purposely deceived them.”

 

“I did not!”

 

“Hell, you do it all the time! You let them think you're something less than you are. What kind of man does that make you?”

 

“Apparently, one you don’t think much of either! Maybe it is time for Tahiti, after all.”

 

Gibbs stared at Tony, and shook his head. “For such a smart man. . .You don't get it, do you?”

 

Shaking his head helplessly, Tony shrugged. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

 

Gibbs stared off into the distance, looking as though he was fighting some strong emotion. Tony wanted to say something, to shake Gibbs, to do something. Instead he waited. After a couple of minutes, Gibbs sighed and said tiredly, “We need to go.”

 

Tony followed his boss to the car, even though what he really wanted to do was hitch a ride in the opposite direction.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

 


	4. There's Always Me

**CHAPTER 4**

**_There's Always Me_**  
_~Elvis song_  


_When the evening shadows fall_  
_And you're wondering who to call_  
 _For a little company_  
 _There's always me_  
  
_If your great romance should end_  
 _And you're lonesome for a friend_  
 _Darling you need never be_  
 _There's always me_  
  
_I don't seem to mind somehow_  
 _Playing second fiddle now_  
 _Someday you'll want me, dear_  
 _And when that day is here_  
  
_Within my arms you'll come to know_  
 _Other loves may come and go_  
 _But my love for you will be eternally_  
 _Look around and you will see_  
 _There's always me_

 

By the time they arrived in Vegas, the city was lit up in a million colored lights, and the sidewalks along the Strip were bustling with throngs of people out for a good time. Tony directed Gibbs to the central police station where they met Detective Ramos from the homicide division.

 

A petite woman with short hair and dark eyes, Ramos shook Tony’s hand with a firm grip. She said that Special Agent McGee had already briefed her, and suggested they should process the crime scene immediately. “That way you folks can catch the red eye, and I can get home to my kids.”

 

Gibbs, who didn’t often shake people’s hands, stuck out his hand and pumped hers once. Apparently, he was all in favor of doing what they had come for, and then getting the hell out of Dodge, and Tony couldn’t agree more.

 

Jerome Sax’s condo, which had expensive furniture and fittings, didn’t take long to process. It had recently been cleaned by a service; there was no garbage, no paperwork, nothing personal at all on the premises. Detective Ramos worked with Tony lifting fingerprints and taking photos, using the Vegas police’s equipment, while Gibbs tossed the bed and looked in every nook and cranny for anything that might be hidden. He found nothing.

 

Ramos put the gear away while Tony thanked her for loaning him the camera. She shot him a smile and made a copy of the pictures by sticking a thumb drive into a gizmo attached to the camera. “We’ll share any info we find on Sax. We’re sure he’s responsible for several murders in the southwest, but there’s no solid evidence. The guy sure knew how to cover his tracks. He has no police record, no local connections. Didn’t gamble, and only took in a few shows when he was in town. We’ll keep digging though; we’ll find something if it’s there.”

 

They were about to leave when Tony stopped in the middle of the living room and had a last look around. “This is a nice place.”

 

“You thinking of moving in once you get your money?” Gibbs asked from the doorway.

 

Tony stayed rooted to the spot. He decided not to respond to Gibbs’ needling. Instead, he looked around and mused, “I wonder why he has such an old TV? An old box? Bigger than your old tube, Boss, but still, it’s got to be ten years old. Why not a flat screen?” He went over to the TV and fiddled with the dials, but it didn’t turn on. Gibbs walked over and watched as Tony located a screwdriver in the Vegas detective’s bag of tools. Soon the back of the TV was off and, with a grin and an “Aha!” Tony pulled something out of its recesses. It was a laptop.

 

“Good catch!” exclaimed Ramos.

 

Tony was pleased by the small victory, but he shrugged. “I used to hide little things inside my record player. Without the circuit boards and wires, there’s plenty of room inside this to hide stuff.” It only took a few minutes for Tony to determine he couldn’t access the laptop’s files. “Job for Abby?”

 

“Bag it. We’ll take it back with us,” Gibbs said. They gathered their tools and box of evidence, and Ramos locked up behind them. As they headed down the hall, Gibbs’ hand met the back of Tony’s head. The head slap felt more like a caress than a reprimand, and together with a soft, “Good job,” from Gibbs, Tony ended up feeling quite confused.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

After they parted company with Detective Ramos, the two men decided to look for somewhere to eat. The next available direct flight to DC wasn’t until two in the morning, and it was barely 9 p.m.. Tony wanted to experience a taste of the wild goings-on on the streets outside the casinos by walking along the Strip, and Gibbs reluctantly agreed. “Just so long as we keep an eye out for somewhere to eat that doesn’t include any kind of stage show.” Tony ogled the showgirls, and stopped a few times to watch the street performers, including a troupe of five Elvises who did an acrobatic act that drew a large crowd.

 

Gibbs pulled him away after a short time, reminding him, “Food.”

 

They found a small brewpub called Bottoms Up, just off the Strip, associated with a local microbrewery. Tony was pretty sure that the only reason Gibbs agreed to enter the establishment was because it was the only place that wasn’t lit up like a neon sign. The prices weren’t bad, and they ordered two medium-rare steaks with the works.

 

Their server, Maggie, showed them the long list of house beers. They chose a variety pack, samplers of several seasonal brews that had just been produced. “Let us know what you think, gentlemen. The guys in the stillroom are always trying out new combinations and tastes, and our BuzzBrew is a one-time brew. Your steaks will be right out,” Maggie said with a bright smile before leaving them alone.

 

There were eight bottles and taster glasses for sampling. Their steak-and-potato dinners arrived, and they made their way through the beers as they ate. “God, I’m famished,” Tony said, digging in. From the way Gibbs tackled his food, it was obvious that he, too, was way past hungry.

 

Tony pushed his empty plate away with a satisfied sigh and reached for the last bottle, the one called BuzzBrew. Just as he opened it, Gibbs rose and made his way to the men’s room. Tony sipped the beer while waiting for Gibbs to return. It wasn’t bad, but there was an odd under-taste. Sort of salty, but…interesting. He drank some more and peered at the label. It didn’t give any clue as to what ingredient was causing the unusual taste, but there was a tag line stating that BuzzBrew was sure to “enhance your pleasure center,” whatever that meant. Tony finished the bottle, and wondered what was keeping Gibbs. Motioning across the room to the server, he ordered a bucket of bottles of the BuzzBrew, and they arrived just as Gibbs returned.

 

Gibbs made a comment under his breath about a long line, and grabbed one of the remaining bottles cooling in the bucket. He swallowed and pulled a face, staring at the bottle. “What is this?”

 

“BuzzBrew,” Tony said, smiling broadly.

 

Gibbs carefully took another sip, and another, and shrugged. “Sorta grows on you.”

 

They sat and drank while they talked about the case, but it wasn’t long before Tony had had enough of work mode. “All work and no play, makes Jack…I mean _Jethro_ a very dull boy.”

 

“I’m not dull.”

 

“Of course not.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You know what? I think we need to let our hair down and try our hand at blackjack, Jethro. Or go see one of the shows. _Hairspray_? George Carlin’s _God_ …or…I know, I know! The _Tribute to Frank, Sammy & Dean_! You’ll love it. How about it?”

 

“You’re not draggin’ me to some fifty-dollar musical show,” Gibbs groused, opening another beer and taking a swig directly from the bottle.

 

“Then it’s blackjack?” Tony suggested, knowing full well that Gibbs’ answer was going to be a firm ‘No.’

 

“No.”

 

Tony smiled, finding Gibbs’ annoyed blue eyes entrancing, and his frowning face so damned endearing. If only there wasn’t a heavy oak table between them, he’d pounce on him and lick that grumpiness right off his face, he thought as he followed Gibbs’ example and drank from a fresh bottle of BuzzBeer. “Mmm, this is good. Good choice, Gibbs.” Seeing they were low on brews, Tony signaled their server and she brought over another couple of bottles each before hurrying off; the place was getting busy.

 

It looked like Gibbs was feeling the effects of the beer from the way he was smiling. He even looked relaxed. It was good to see Gibbs happy. There was little Tony enjoyed more than being in Gibbs’ company and away from work, even if the most exciting thing they’d done since they’d arrived in Vegas was to eat out.

 

As he saw Tony watching him closely, Gibbs groused, “What’re you so happy about?”

 

Tony drained his beer and spread his arms along the back of the booth. He couldn’t help grinning at the scowl on Gibbs’ face. “Remove that frowny face, Agent Gibbs. That’s an order. This is Vegas, where anything goes. And I say your frown has to go.”

 

“Go where?” asked Gibbs. He licked his lips and drank some more beer. “This…this is…sorta addictive.”

 

“I know, tell me about it,” Tony exclaimed. He leaned forward and slapped Gibbs on the arm, knocking over a couple of empty bottles as he did so. “Oops.”

 

Gibbs blinked at Tony. “You slapped me,” he said, sounding astonished.

 

For some reason, Tony found that very amusing, and once he started laughing, it was hard to stop. He clutched his ribs. “Considering all the slaps you’ve hit me with, I think I can slap you once. Or twice.” He slapped at Gibbs’ arm again, but this time Gibbs blocked him.

 

“How many beers’ve you had?” asked Gibbs, looking at their empties. Their server had abandoned them, apparently, but it was a very busy establishment. Gibbs was frowning again, but every few seconds, his lips twitched and a smile appeared. Then he’d realize he was smiling and the frown would return.

 

“This is very…zingy,” Tony commented.

 

“How much have you had?” Gibbs persisted, grabbing Tony’s hand, which was currently wrapped around the remaining bottle of BuzzBrew.

 

“Ya know, they should call this ZingyBrew or HappyBrew or…”

 

Gibbs’ hand tightened over Tony’s. “DiNozzo, listen to me.”

 

“’kay…’m list’ning.”

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

Tony thought for a moment. “Dunno. Maybe. Sorta different, like…” He held up his hands and stared at his fingers. “Uh oh.”

 

“Oh hell, don’t tell me.”

 

“Boss, my fingers are finging!”

 

“Shit,” said Gibbs. He looked around the restaurant as if seeking the waitress, or maybe some unseen enemy, before his eyes slid back to meet Tony’s. Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, Gibbs said, “We gotta get out of here. I think…the beer…”

 

“There something in the beer?” Tony picked up a bottle and squinted at the label but he had a hard time focusing and could only make out the larger text. “This is fuzzy,” he told Gibbs. “Or fizzy. I’m confused. I don’t like being confused. Are you…?”

 

“Something’s going on here.” Gibbs was looking at their fellow patrons suspiciously but, as far as Tony could tell, there was nothing amiss. Everyone was having a good time.

 

“You want me to grab the manager?” asked Tony, trying to rise from his seat and falling back into it with a plop. “Ooops!”

 

Gibbs shook his head slowly. “No, no manager. We can’t risk it. They’re probably in on it.” He looked towards the rear of the crowded restaurant as if weighing his options. “Better go out the front.” Gibbs fumbled a bit, but managed to extricate his wallet and dropped some cash on the table. “When I say so, head for the front door. Stay low.”

 

“You want me to go low? I’m not sure I can even walk, Boss.” Somehow, Tony made it out of the booth and onto his feet, although if Gibbs hadn’t slipped an arm around his waist he surely would have done a face-plant. Everything was swimming and his legs felt like rubber as they made their way to the exit. It was a miracle, considering the way he was listing heavily to one side, that he didn’t pull Gibbs over with him.

 

They made it outside and onto the sidewalk, where Tony peered at Gibbs through half-lidded eyes. “Boss?” The lights hurt Tony’s eyes and everything was swimming around, making him dizzy. He felt like puking, but Gibbs got a firmer hold on him and dragged him down the crowded street.

 

Gibbs had a slightly panicky expression mixed with determination. “Have to get to a hotel. Up the street. Safe there.”

 

“What’s goin’ on?” Tony asked, suddenly overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds. “I don’t feel good.”

 

“Hang onto me,” Gibbs said. “Think they…spiked the drinks.”

 

They were only halfway to the nearest hotel, which was lit up like a runway, with banks of flashing lights, when Tony’s legs gave way under him. Gibbs half dragged him into the nearest storefront, though Tony had his eyes closed by that time, trying to stop everything from swimming. It was like being in the Hall of Mirrors in a fun house, the way everything was undulating. Then he was sitting, leaning heavily on Gibbs. Gibbs was talking to someone with a deep Southern drawl, and then Gibbs got him up and they were in a quiet, dimly lit room, with cushioned benches and soft Elvis music playing. Tony leaned on Gibbs’ shoulder and sighed. “Nice.”

 

“Feeling okay?”

 

“Mmmm. Stay here?” Tony asked softly. Gibbs slid his arm around Tony’s shoulders, and Tony was sure he felt a kiss placed on his hair, only that was just plain silly because Gibbs slapped him, didn’t kiss him, on the head.

 

“Whatever you want, Tony,” Gibbs said, as if his voice was far away.

 

Someone brought him some water and he woke up enough to drink it all. It was delicious and he said so, with a smile.

 

“You want anything else?” Gibbs asked.

 

“I want you,” Tony said breathlessly, smiling up at Gibbs.

 

Gibbs smiled back, his teeth, his eyes, and even his hair sparkling as if lit from within. “You want me?”

 

Overcome by the extraordinary sight, Tony said, “I want you…” He started singing along to the song playing in the background. “…to never leave me alone, ‘cause I die every time we’re apart, I want you, I need you, I love you with all my heart.”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 


	5. Don't Leave Me Now

**CHAPTER 5**

**_Don't Leave Me Now  
_ ** _~Elvis song_

 _Don't leave me now  
_ _Now that I need you  
_ _How blue and lonely I'd be  
_ _If you should say we're through_

 _Don't break my heart  
_ _This heart that loves you  
_ _They'll just be nothing for me  
_ _If you should leave me now_

_What good is dreamin'  
_ _If I must dream all alone by myself  
_ _Without you darling  
_ _My arms would gather dust_

_Come to these arms  
_ _These arms that need you  
_ _Don't close your eyes to my plea  
_ _Don't leave me now_

 

Tony woke to a blinding pain in his head. The second he tried to open his eyes, he almost puked, it was so bad.

 

_Jesus, my head… cracked wide open… brains… leaking out my ears. What’s happened…?_

 

“Take it easy,” said a voice near his ear.

 

There was a heavy droning, and the room was vibrating. Tony raised a hand to his head. “What’s going on?” Fuck, even whispering hurt.

 

“I’ve got ya.”

 

“My head,” Tony mumbled, scared, not knowing where he was or what was going on. He reached out blindly. A large rough hand took hold of his with a firm grip that calmed his fears a little. “Gibbs?”

 

“I’m right here.”

 

Tony tried to open his eyes but, try as he might, he couldn’t do it. “Go,” he moaned, swaying. A hand gripping his arm startled him and he jerked away, shoulder slamming against a wall. Close quarters, boxed in. Nowhere to go. Rushing in his ears, his heart pounding out of his chest, Tony struggled and the grip tightened. Tony fought it; he had to get out! “Let me go!”

 

“Tony! It’s me. Calm down. You’re all right.”

 

He knew it was Gibbs, but something told him to fight him off. “Don’t!” Tony tried to push him away, but the man was like a rock.

 

“Stop. You’re scaring the passengers,” Gibbs said, his voice low and stern.

 

As usual, hearing Gibbs’ confident voice helped rein in the panic that Tony felt pushing close to the surface. “Oh. Okay,” Tony panted and opened one eye, just a sliver. He could make out Gibbs, and behind him a worried looking woman in some type of uniform. Tony swallowed on a dry throat. “Where…are we?”

 

“On the plane, heading home.” Gibbs signaled the woman, a flight attendant, that everything was under control, and she left them alone.

 

Tony asked, “The red-eye?”

 

“We caught a later flight,” Gibbs replied, sounding reluctant.

 

It took some effort but Tony got both eyes open. Gibbs looked drained, dark circles under his eyes, making Tony realize that he wasn’t the only one who’d been through the ringer. “What happened? I don’t remember…”

 

“We’ll talk later,” was all Gibbs would say.

 

Tony closed his eyes, and something cold, a bottle of juice, was pressed into his hand. Pills followed. It took several Advil to put a dent in his headache, but when it eventually receded, he became aware of his other pains. “My ass hurts,” Tony groaned, shifting a little in the unforgiving seat.

 

Of all things, Gibbs laughed, though Tony had a sense it was a laugh of relief. He tried to smile back, but it hurt too much.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

They landed as the sun was going down, and by the time their taxi pulled up to the Navy Yard, and pulled up behind Gibbs’ car, it was late.

 

While Gibbs dealt with the taxi and their bags, Tony stood on the pavement, breathing in the cool night air while swaying slightly. He felt really out of it. He had a feeling there was something he was supposed to do. His car…yeah, he had to locate his car, his leased car, which was a far cry from the Ferrari of his dreams. Patting his pockets, Tony found his keys. He wandered down the row of parked cars, pressing the button on his key fob in various directions in an attempt to locate his vehicle. Problem was, he couldn’t remember what kind of car he was driving. It struck him as funny and he laughed aloud.

 

He must have looked as loopy as he felt because Gibbs took his arm and steered him back towards his car. Once Tony was settled in the passenger seat, Gibbs said, “I’m going to book the evidence.”

 

“Mmm, I’ll stay here.” Tony slumped in the seat, making himself comfortable. He couldn’t keep his eyes open.

 

Sometime later, the car door slammed, waking Tony. “You want me to write my report, Boss?”

 

“We’ll do it in the morning. I already sent McGee and Ziva home,” Gibbs said, while backing out of the parking space. “I’m taking you home.”

 

Tony sat up and took a couple of deep breaths. “Wow, I feel like I’ve been on a bender, a really wild one, like spring break wet T-shirt kind of wild. You know what I mean? No, you don’t know because you never did a spring break, though I’ll bet you did your share of drinking in the good ol’ Marine days. Did I drink a lot? ‘Cause I sure feel like I did. Did I have a good time? Were you there, too?” Tony peered at Gibbs, having a vague recollection of singing ‘Hound Dog’ with him.

 

Gibbs’ response was a curt, “Fasten your seatbelt,” before driving out of the Yard at a stomach-lurching speed.

 

As Gibbs drove, he made a phone call to Vance, delivering a brief update on the case. Tony only listened with half an ear, and within minutes he fell asleep, his head resting on the cool glass of the window.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

The car door was open and Gibbs was leaning in. “C’mon, DiNozzo. I’m not gonna lug you all the way inside.”

 

Inside? Tony blinked and looked around groggily. They were parked in someone’s driveway, in a neighborhood. It was dark but a single light was shining brightly at the front door. Tony raised a hand to shield his sensitive eyes. “Where are we?”

 

“We’re home.” Gibbs stuck his hands under Tony’s arms and unceremoniously hauled him out of the car.

 

He hugged Tony to keep him upright and Tony instinctively flung his arms around Gibbs’ neck for balance. His nose ended up mighty close to Gibbs’ neck, where he took in the smell of coffee and aftershave, and those indefinable masculine Gibbs-smells that made him irrationally weak at the knees. His heart was beating faster than it had a right to, and Gibbs’ arms tightened protectively around him, causing Tony to just about melt into his welcoming embrace. Suddenly, the proximity to Gibbs and the alluring aromas, were too much to take.

 

Tony pushed Gibbs away. “I’m okay.” He wasn’t anywhere near being okay, but there were times when a man had to stand on his own two feet. He swayed a bit, and Gibbs reached out a helping hand, but Tony refused it, saying brusquely, “I can walk.”

 

“Fine.” Gibbs grabbed the bags, but he waited for Tony and walked beside him, up the steps and into the house.

 

It wasn’t until Tony collapsed on the lumpy couch that it finally sunk in that he was, in fact, in Gibbs’ home. Tony watched through half-closed eyes as Gibbs dumped their bags near the stairs, and went around turning on a few lights. He wondered if it would be rude to go straight upstairs to bed, even though it was only six o’clock.

 

Gibbs disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes. Cabinet doors banged, water ran, and Tony recognized the sounds of coffee being prepared. There was a one-sided conversation – Gibbs calling someone. A minute later, he came out bearing a glass of water, which he placed on the end table. “Let’s get you more comfortable,” he said, reaching for Tony’s jacket.

 

Good thing Gibbs didn’t seem to expect much help from Tony, because he didn’t get it. Once his jacket and shoes were off, and Gibbs went to lock his weapon in the gun safe, Tony sank back onto the well-worn cushions of the couch.

 

Gibbs stood over him and asked, “You think you can stay awake long enough to eat something?”

 

“I guess. Boss?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You never said. Did something…happen? I mean, to me?” Tony blinked slowly and rubbed his eyes, wishing the room would stop undulating.

 

Gibbs stood over Tony, looking concerned. “What’s going on?”

 

Tony squinted up at him. “I feel weird. Like the air is made of jello. I’m all itchy, like when someone tells you they found a tick on themselves, and immediately you think they’re all over you, sucking your blood and giving you nasty diseases.” He scratched his stomach and shuddered in revulsion.

 

“You find any ticks?” Gibbs asked.

 

“Well, no, but…”

 

Gibbs grasped Tony’s chin and gently moved his head from side to side, then laid his hand on Tony’s forehead. “I don’t see any rash, but you’re a little warm. You having trouble breathing?”

 

Tony shook his head. “No, it’s not that. But…something’s not right.”

 

“I already called Ducky to check you out. He’ll be here soon,” Gibbs said.

 

“I don’t need to be poked. Just need sleep,” Tony mumbled, and slipped down on the couch, trying to get comfortable. His headache was still bothering him, mostly behind his eyes, and he felt exhausted. Even though he couldn’t recall the events of last night, Tony was pretty sure he and Gibbs hadn’t been out drinking and gambling all night. So what had they been up to? Partying was out; maybe they’d checked into a hotel room. They’d eaten out, but after that…it was all a big blank until he’d woken up on the plane. So why couldn’t he remember anything? It was seriously disturbing and Gibbs hadn’t been much help. He’d been surprisingly closed-mouthed about the details, but Tony knew he’d get it out of him…after he’d had a nap.

 

Tony woke up to find Ducky taking his blood pressure. “‘M fine. You don’t have to…”

 

“Jethro indicated that you were both feeling under the weather.”

 

Gibbs, who was standing to one side, pointed at Tony. “Not me. Him.”

 

The ME met Tony’s eyes, and Tony could read amusement and exasperation in their gray depths. Ducky stuck a digital thermometer in Tony’s ear until it beeped. He frowned at the results. “Hmm. A wee bit high.”

 

Gibbs made an ‘I told you so’ kind of noise.

 

Tony asked what had been on his mind, ever since he’d woken up on the plane a few hours ago. “Do I have valley fever?” He pulled up his shirt to expose his belly. “See the red spots? There.”

 

“Where?” Ducky inspected Tony’s stomach.

 

“Right there,” Tony said, having trouble quelling the rising panic at the thought of having contracted valley fever once again. He’d had it years ago, when he was on the Philly PD, and he’d had to take three months off work. Of course he’d put that free time to good use, once the chills had gone, and had pursued further degrees in criminology. Still, it sucked to feel that bad for so long. He’d ended up taking a transfer to Baltimore as soon as he was back on his feet.

 

Gibbs stepped in and unceremoniously pulled Tony’s shirt up even higher, revealing his chest. “That’s a freckle. Get a grip, DiNozzo,” he said bluntly.

 

With a sideways glance at Gibbs, Ducky said dryly, “Thank you so much for your diagnosis, Dr. Gibbs.”

 

“C’mon, Ducky, it takes a week for symptoms to even show up.”

 

“Those appear to be bites from sand fleas. Quite harmless. I’ll give you some ointment to stop the itching.” Ducky patted Tony’s knee. “As far as valley fever goes, it takes a good seven days between contracting coccidiodomycosis and the appearance of symptoms. You have no rash, nor do you exhibit any of the other known symptoms. However, you seem a tad disoriented and have a low-grade fever. Perhaps you overindulged while in Las Vegas?” Ducky turned to Gibbs for an answer.

 

“We only had one meal, at a steak and brew,” Gibbs said defensively.

 

Tony sat upright. “You think it was the beer? They brewed their own.” He remembered drinking samples, but not much else about the night. He noticed how Gibbs shifted his weight, averting his gaze, and Tony immediately wondered what was up with him. Had they done something he didn’t want to remember? Something that Gibbs wasn’t pleased about? Wait a minute – could that be guilt he was seeing? From Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Tony asked, “Gibbs? What did we do? Please tell me I didn’t get naked in public.”

 

Ducky looked at Gibbs expectantly. “Yes, would you care to share your suspicions with the room, Agent Gibbs?”

 

Gibbs sighed and said, “We drank some beer that might have been a little off.”

 

Tony nodded even though doing so made his head swim. “Yeah. I remember that. Unusual taste. Salty. It was good though. I mean, I felt sort of good and I wanted more.”

 

“How much more?” asked Ducky.

 

Gibbs recalled, “Tony drank a few, more than me, and when I got back to the table he was acting…”

 

Both Tony and Ducky waited for Gibbs to finish his sentence.

 

“Happy,” Gibbs said, pulling a face as if the word was distasteful.

 

“Happy?” asked Ducky, apparently expecting more detail.

 

“Like maybe he’d been roofied,” Gibbs said, sounding unsure.

 

“Like with a date rape drug?” asked Tony, horrified. “I don’t…I don’t remember being attacked. Was I?”

 

Gibbs looked just as appalled as Tony felt, and the immediate shake of his head and strong, “No!” assured Tony he was telling the truth.

 

“Oh dear,” said Ducky. “It is far too late to detect the usual markers that would indicate the use of rohypnol, or GHB, although ketamine can be detected when it breaks down into norketamine, and the detection window is seven to fourteen days. I will take blood, and I will also need a urine sample.” Ducky peered over his glasses. “And yours, too, Jethro, as you imbibed the same type of beer, I gather?”

 

Gibbs sighed. “Yeah, I drank it, too.”

 

“It was called BuzzKill,” Tony said, trying to be helpful. “Or BuzzHappy. Or…Buzzzzz…” He looked at Gibbs, blinking slowly. “I sort of remember leaving the restaurant. We walked out on our own power, right? Nobody had their way with me, did they?” He laughed, a little wildly, even though he didn’t see any humor in the situation.

 

Gibbs settled on the couch next to Tony, watching Ducky pull a couple of syringes from his bag. “We got out safely,” Gibbs assured him.

 

Tony asked, “Did anyone get…you know, like…funny with us? I mean, was there anyone suspicious hanging around, watching us? Who did that to us?”

 

“It was Vegas. Everyone looked suspicious,” Gibbs replied. Tony continued to stare at him so Gibbs relented, saying, “I remember us leaving under our own steam. I…I don’t exactly remember much, okay? I drank some of that BuzzBrew, too.” He swore under his breath and said, “I shoulda grabbed a bottle as evidence, but I was in a hurry to get us the hell out of there. And when the fresh air hit me…”

 

“You don’t remember?” Tony asked, feeling better now he knew that Gibbs’ memory was as fuzzy as his was, which made no sense.

 

“It’s not exactly clear,” was all Gibbs would admit to. “We…we got a hotel room; I remember that. You sacked out and I had trouble getting you going in the morning, but we got on our flight.”

 

“I don’t remember any of this,” Tony said, feeling sick to his stomach.

 

“Oh dear,” Ducky said, looking from Gibbs to Tony, and then back. “If you were both given illicit drugs, then you are lucky to have escaped any real harm.”

 

Tony said, “I remember sampling a few beers…and then things got sorta blurry…and…next thing I know, we’re on the plane.” Gibbs was staring at him with widening eyes, making Tony frown and ask, “What?”

 

Gibbs just shook his head.

 

There was something funny going on, and Tony swore he was going to get to the bottom of it. He demanded, “Why didn’t you call the cops? Or the manager? I know you…you’d normally pull your gun and scare everyone into submission. Line them up and…”

 

Gibbs swallowed, and admitted, “I didn’t call anyone.”

 

“Were you hurt?” Tony asked, suddenly fearful that Gibbs had been assaulted.

 

“What? No! But…Damn it, I couldn’t.”

 

“Why the hell not?” Tony asked, raising his voice.

 

Gibbs practically shouted back, “Because I had to get you out of that restaurant! If we’d stayed, we’d have been defenseless. Anyone could have gotten to us. And then…we escaped, got outside, made for the nearest hotel. You were staggering, and your legs gave out before we’d gone a block. I think…” Gibbs rubbed his temples. “We went in somewhere to call a taxi…I don’t…damn it! I can’t remember.”

 

Tony could see Gibbs was disturbed by the incident, and the loss of memory that came with being roofied. Well, he didn’t like losing a chunk of time either. Trying not to sound like he was accusing Gibbs of anything, Tony spoke slowly. “But you didn’t call the cops, file an incident report, or complain about the restaurant?”

 

Gibbs glared at Tony. “And how would that look, DiNozzo? I can just see the headline: Two Federal Agents Drink Drugged Beer and Are Seen Staggering Around Vegas. You really think that’d go down well with the Director? Or SecNav? We’d lose our jobs,” Gibbs said angrily.

 

“You could’ve called Detective Ramos. She’d have helped us,” Tony reasoned. He would have said a lot more, but he was getting the mother of all headaches and his tongue felt thick and dry. Besides, Gibbs was right. They’d surely lose their jobs if word of this got out. If they were lucky, they’d only get demoted. “Yeah, you’re right. Vance would jump at the chance to separate us,” he said bleakly.

 

“It won’t come to that,” Gibbs said, sounding determined.

 

Ducky intervened. “Anthony, it appears that Jethro’s main concern was getting both of you to safety, which he did. It also appears that neither of you was harmed at the scene, which is excellent news. Right now, the best medicine for both of you is a good night’s sleep. But before you retire, I do need to obtain samples from both of you.”

 

Tired of the conversation, Tony shrugged, but he said, “Fine.”

 

“Sleeves up, gentlemen,” Ducky said cheerfully.

 

Tony went first. He watched as Ducky slid a needle into a vein in his forearm. It made him feel queasy, but it was soon over, and the ME gave him a square of gauze to press against the puncture wound.

 

“What’re you expecting to find out from this, Duck?” asked Gibbs, while Ducky took a sample of his blood.

 

“Unfortunately, the likelihood of finding evidence of drugs in your systems is remote, considering the amount of time that has passed. However, I am confident that if anyone can find traces, Abigail can. I will not tell her who the samples belong to; it will remain confidential. There you go,” Ducky said as he tidied up. “Now, I need urine samples from both of you. Then get some rest, and drink plenty of water. If you still feel weak or at all befuddled in the morning, either of you, call me.”

 

“Why did I get so badly affected?” Tony asked, looking at the small drop of blood welling through the gauze in the crook of his arm.

 

Ducky taped the gauze in place and replied in a kind voice, “Due to your history of adverse reactions to certain medications, it is likely that it only took a small quantity of the tainted beer to overwhelm you – if it was the beer that caused this reaction.”

 

“I just don’t like the not remembering part,” Tony admitted. “You sure you don’t remember, Boss? When I was in college, I got really drunk once during hockey season. They said I stood on a table and sang the Canadian national anthem, perfectly, and in French. I still don’t remember any of it.”

 

Ducky hummed a few bars of ‘Oh Canada,’ and handed both men small plastic cups to pee in.

 

“He going to be okay?” asked Gibbs looking to Ducky for an answer.

 

“Anthony’s system does not process medications as quickly as is normal. The effects linger, especially those of opiates, as we have witnessed on more than one occasion,” Ducky explained.

 

“Hey, I’m right here, ya know,” Tony complained.

 

Ducky patted Tony’s arm and assured him, “Not to worry, you should be right as rain by tomorrow. Or the day after that.”

 

Tony gave a little groan. “You know this is gonna drive me crazy, not knowing.” Gibbs was no help, what with his own Swiss-cheese memory. Being investigators, they’d feel compelled to trace the steps they took last night in Vegas, and Tony was afraid of what they might discover.

 

Gibbs and Ducky got him on his feet and Tony was able to make his way to the toilet where he peed into the sample cup. As soon as Gibbs had done the same, Ducky stowed the small containers safely in his bag, and was off.

 

Gibbs rattled around in the kitchen and came out with a couple of large mugs of steaming cream of chicken soup. He handed one to Tony and sat beside him on the couch, not saying anything, his forehead creased in thought.

 

Tony felt floaty and half out of it, and even though it was barely nine o’clock, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Gibbs offered to help him up to the guest room. “I’ll stay here,” Tony said, pulling his shirt off before Gibbs had a chance to respond. Gibbs sighed but helped him to undress down to his boxers, and pulled out the pillow and blanket he stored behind the couch. Tony lay down and snuggled under the blanket Gibbs pulled up to his shoulder. “Mmm, thanks, Boss,” he mumbled.

 

Gibbs gently brushed hair back from Tony’s forehead, saying softly, “Feel better, Tony.”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ 

 

 


	6. Wear My Ring Around Your Neck

**CHAPTER 6**

**_Wear My Ring Around Your Neck  
_ ** _~Elvis song_

 _Won't you wear my ring around your neck_  
_To tell the world I'm yours, by heck_  
_Let them see your love for me_  
_And let them see by the ring around your neck_

  

Tony woke up in the middle of the night, needing to take a leak. He sat up, still groggy, and found he wasn’t in bed, but had been sleeping on a couch. It took a minute before he realized that he was at Gibbs’ house, on _his_ couch, and they’d just got back from Nevada, and…something had happened in Vegas. He brain was too heavy with sleep and he really needed to pee, so he gave up trying to remember whatever it was he was supposed to remember, and staggered to the bathroom. After relieving himself, and feeling a bit more aware, Tony decided he could eat, and padded into the kitchen on bare feet. He was incredibly thirsty, and there was an ache nagging him somewhere behind his eyes, but as he moved around, it lessened considerably.

 

Inspection of Gibbs’ fridge revealed a box containing a few slices of cold pizza, and a jar of applesauce that appeared to be mold-free, so he carried his impromptu meal into the dining room, along with a large glass of water. With the light over the table dimmed, Tony sat down to eat, not really thinking of anything. After the pizza was gone, as well as most of the applesauce, he started to take an interest in a pile of Gibbs’ mail, sitting on the table within arm’s reach. There was a newspaper folded to a crossword puzzle, partially completed; a newsletter from the Soldiers at Home Support Network along with a thank-you note for a donation; a neat pile of bills already opened and sorted (trust Gibbs to pay all his bills by snail mail); and a bulky manila envelope with an open flap, its contents partially visible.

 

Tony pushed the pizza box aside and wiped his fingers on his boxer-clad thighs, then snagged the envelope and pulled it closer. He peeked in and saw what looked like a black velvet jewelry box, as well as a couple of brochures and a document with an official looking seal on one corner. There was also a plastic-encased DVD at the bottom of the envelope.

 

Knowing from experience that the minute he started nosing around, Gibbs would appear, like magic, Tony hesitated. His hesitation lasted all of three seconds. With a groan of “What the hell,” he dumped the contents of the envelope out on the table.

 

First, he opened the jewelry box and discovered a pair of matching gold rings sitting side by side. The rings, similar in size and weight, were inlaid with some kind of green gemstone in a triangle pattern around their circumference. The cut stones appeared to be real, as far as he could discern, and were a beautiful emerald green. They were also both quite masculine in style.

 

Out of curiosity, Tony pulled one of the rings out of the box and tried it on. It took a few attempts before he found it fit the fourth finger on his left hand – as if it were made for him. He tried on the other ring, but it was large for him, so he returned it to the safety of its box. Tony leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ring on his finger, trying to figure out what this all meant, and why Gibbs would have a pair of gold rings sitting on his dining room table.

 

Thinking he might find more clues, Tony checked out the brochures. They were advertising various hotels around Vegas, including the Clown Motel, which was too creepy for words, as well as for area attractions such as the Neon Boneyard and the Atomic Testing Museum.

 

A large brochure at the bottom of the pile was for the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel, which announced in fancy gold lettering that it offered Elvis-style weddings. Apparently the “Burning Love” package included a singing Elvis, who would perform special ‘Elvis vows’ in his capacity as a licensed officiant.

 

Okay, this was getting weirder and weirder. Had Gibbs picked this stuff up when he was in Vegas with the intention of getting married yet again? Tony couldn’t think of anyone Gibbs might want to marry, unless he was entirely off his gourd and was thinking about remarrying Diane? Tony choked on that thought. No, Gibbs wasn’t into self-inflicted pain, and Diane might be sexy – to Gibbs – but she was hellish to be around. And as far as Tony knew, the boss hadn’t been dating anyone, not for a while. Gibbs had been too busy taking him around to junkyards and ballgames whenever they were off rotation. He wouldn’t have any time for a lady friend.

 

Tony looked over the Viva Las Vegas brochure, chuckling at the lavish services they offered. All included in the price: photos of the married couple in a pink Cadillac, a video of the ceremony, witnesses and flowers provided by the chapel. Best of all, they would have the convenience of on-the-spot filing of the marriage license, because it just so happened that the Reverend Billy Bob ‘Elvis’ Cooper was also a registrar of the Court. In addition, the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel boasted an in-house jewelry shop, hosted by The Tower of Jewels.

 

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. “One-stop shopping, and I’ll bet they have slot machines in the bathrooms,” he said to himself.

 

He pushed the brochures aside so he could get a good look at a large document underneath. The first time Tony glanced over it, he had trouble taking in anything other than the large gold embossed seal and several signatures. After rubbing his eyes, Tony had another look, and this time, with a dawning horror, he read the words inscribed on the document.

 

_This Certifies that the Reverend Billy Bob Elvis Cooper_

_Did Unite in Marriage_

_Anthony D. DiNozzo Jr. & Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

_Witnessed and Celebrated by Bess Smith Cooper and Tyrell Cooper III_

_in Las Vegas, Clark County, Nevada_

 

Below were signatures of the wedded couple, and although they were both almost illegible scribbles, Tony recognized one as being his own: Anthony D. DiNozzo.

 

“No! No way!” Tony stood so quickly his chair fell over and hit the floor with a resounding crash. He _couldn’t_ have signed this! He wouldn’t have! He would have remembered if he’d signed an official document in front of witnesses, wouldn’t he? He would have remembered if he’d been _married_! “Marriage? To Gibbs? This has to be a joke,” Tony muttered, wondering which of his friends was most likely to have pulled off this practical joke.

 

“It’s no joke,” Gibbs said from behind.

 

Tony turned quickly to find Gibbs, clad in an old tee and striped boxers, standing in the doorway of the darkened living room. Tony strode over and waved the certificate in Gibbs’ face. “Tell me this isn’t real. It _can’t_ be,” he insisted. The moment Tony saw the look of truth in Gibbs’ eyes, he stepped away, his knees weak and threatening to buckle under him. “You…why would you do this to me?”

 

Gibbs motioned towards the dining table. “Let’s sit down, Tony.”

 

“I don’t believe this,” Tony said, having a hard time accepting the truth.

 

“Just sit,” Gibbs said, seating himself.

 

Tony reluctantly took a chair across from Gibbs. “Tell me this is some big joke the guys at work concocted. I’ll bet Abby printed up all this stuff, right?” Tony asked with a wild laugh, even though he could tell from Gibbs’ expression that this wasn’t someone’s idea of a prank.

 

Picking up the ring that had been too large for Tony, Gibbs slipped it on his own finger, the fourth on his left hand.

 

It fit perfectly, Tony saw, his heart skipping a beat. He pointed accusingly at Gibbs and blurted, “Oh shit, you’re Cinderfella.”

 

Gibbs looked taken aback. “Who?”

 

“ _Cinderfella_. 1960, Jerry Lewis in a reworking of the classic _Cinderella_ tale. You know, the girl with the prince and the glass slipper, a pumpkin coach, evil step-sisters? Never mind.” Even though he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, Tony asked, “Tell me why we’re wearing matching rings. They’re out of a Cracker Jacks box, right?”

 

Gibbs shook his head slowly. “No, no Cracker Jacks. They’re the real thing. We chose them together. You said you wanted green stones.”

 

Tony stared at Gibbs, his mind totally frozen, unable to process what this all meant. “We chose them?”

 

Gibbs held Tony’s gaze, apparently waiting for him to catch up.

 

“But…I wouldn’t have… _You_ wouldn’t want…We can’t!”

 

Gibbs gave Tony a small smile, his eyes watchful. “We did.”

 

“So you’re saying we’re…”

 

“Married. Yes,” Gibbs said, his smile broadening.

 

Married, they were _married_ , him and Gibbs, Tony & Jethro, and they had the official document to prove it, and they even had rings and… Tony swallowed hard and made a poor attempt to speak casually. His voice shook a little when he joked, “And it looks like I missed the honeymoon. I hope it was good for you.”

 

The smile on Gibbs’ face faded. “You don’t remember… _any_ of it?”

 

Tony slowly shook his head, not sure whether he should be horrified or amused that Gibbs had truly married him, and what was worse, that he had no memory of the ceremony. He settled for horrified, with a side of confused. “I don’t. I’m not sure I _want_ to remember it at this point.” Tony picked up the wedding chapel’s brochure, and gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t tell me, we got the ‘Burning Love’ package?”

 

Relaxing a little, Gibbs said, “No, we bought the ‘Now or Never’ deal. You said you couldn’t wait any longer.”

 

“I did not! I never…,” Tony spluttered. But the look in Gibbs’ eyes told him all he needed to know. “I said _that_?”

 

Gibbs nodded slowly.

 

Tony couldn’t take any more of this, not the marriage or the not-remembering part. He was even having problems with the way Gibbs kept looking at him as if he was actually okay with this.

 

Oh God, this could not be true. Tony stood, raking a hand through his hair, and started pacing. They were married! Him and Gibbs! Tony turned to look suspiciously at his boss, his _husband_. No, this wasn’t possible, because Gibbs wouldn’t marry a man, and certainly not _him_.

 

Tony stopped in his tracks, shook his head, and let out a big laugh. Waggling a finger at Gibbs, he said, “Hey, you had me there for a moment. This really _is_ a prank, and a good one, too. I’ll give you kudos for that. Had me fooled there, Boss.” Tony forced a grin. “Okay, the game is up. Who put you up to this?” He looked around, peering into the dark living room, expecting Abby and the others to jump out, shouting, ‘Surprise!’

 

Rising, Gibbs caught Tony’s hand in a firm grip. “Tony. This is not a prank.”

 

Tony stared at the hand clasping his own. All he could think was how warm it was, and how the palm was slightly damp, and that they were wearing matching rings that symbolically bound them together in a way he’d never imagined would happen. Tony slowly looked up to meet Gibbs’ eyes. “I thought you didn’t remember what happened in Vegas. That’s what you told me and Ducky,” Tony challenged.

 

The solemn expression in Gibbs’ eyes and the truth reflected in them scared Tony. He might admire Gibbs, and even lust after him a bit more than was healthy between two men in a working relationship, but this…this _marriage_ was not what he had ever expected, and it was definitely not something he wanted. He couldn’t imagine that Gibbs was enthused about it either.

 

With a sigh, Gibbs admitted, “After you were asleep, I unpacked my bag and found that envelope. Some of it came back to me. Going into the chapel, the reverend coming over to see if we were all right, and his wife bringing you water. Later getting a hotel room, and the trouble I had getting you to the airport when you were so out of it. And then, when I saw you sitting here, looking at the certificate…and the rings…I remembered the rest of it.”

 

Tony searched Gibbs’ eyes for some insight. “I…I don’t understand. Why would we do this? Did I even have a _say_ in it?”

 

Gibbs hadn’t let go of Tony’s hand, and now he slowly drew him closer. “You really need me to spell it out?”

 

Tony choked out an incredulous laugh. “Well, yeah! For starters, how about telling me why would you marry me? Why marry a _man_ , especially in a city full of showgirls? I’m sure some of them were redheads.” He wished Gibbs would release his hand; it was making it hard to think.

 

A faint flush rose to Gibbs’ cheeks. “I didn’t want a showgirl, Tony. I didn’t even want a redhead. Look, I didn’t plan to marry you but… We went into the chapel, to get off the street. I was working out the best way to get us to a hotel, and Reverend Cooper came over. He asked if we were there to get married, and it seemed right, somehow, and I said yes.” Gibbs bowed his head a little, looking at the intertwined fingers. “You said yes, too.” He looked up with a smile. “I never planned to tell you…but just the same, now it’s done, I don’t regret it, getting married.”

 

Cautiously, Tony asked, “What was it you never planned on telling me?”

 

Gibbs’ cheeks grew even pinker, and what threw Tony was that he looked almost shy. Gibbs said, “I should’ve told you, Tony. There were lots of times I wanted to but…I didn’t know how you felt. Neither of us are into guys. No point in ruining what we had, only…lately I’ve been thinking…” Gibbs shifted his weight, looking uneasy.

 

Tony had never seen Gibbs hesitant or unsure, but witnessing those emotions convinced him that even if whatever had gone on in Vegas had been a huge mistake, Gibbs’ intentions had not been bad. “What have you been thinking?” Tony asked cautiously.

 

Gibbs gave a shrug and looked down at their clasped hands. If anything, he gripped Tony’s hand even tighter, as if he didn’t want him to escape. It felt oddly reassuring so Tony didn’t pull away.

 

In a quiet voice, Gibbs said, “That maybe it would work. Between us. Hell, we’ve been doing stuff together for a while, and I like you being around, and let’s face it, my dad likes you better than any of my ex-wives. He likes you better than he does _me_.”

 

Tony raised his free hand to cut Gibbs off. “Wait. Wait! You’re telling me that you’ve developed feelings for me over fishing trips and baseball games, and searching junkyards for old boat parts?” Gibbs nodded. He raised his eyes and when Tony saw the truth in them he stepped back, pulling his hand out of Gibbs’ grasp. “You’re telling me we’ve been dating these past few months?”

 

Gibbs smiled ruefully. “Not exactly dinner-and-a-movie, but yeah.”

 

Tony shoved at Gibbs’ chest, crying out, “And you didn’t even tell me?”

 

“I thought you’d let me know if you were interested,” Gibbs retorted. “You flirt with everyone you meet.”

 

“Why didn’t you just come straight out and tell me? Or ask me out on a real date?” Tony took a breath and frowned at Gibbs. “And I do _not_ flirt with everyone. I’m selective.”

 

Gibbs appeared nonplussed. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” he said simply.

 

“What we had? We had a work relationship and…and we had friendship. And trips to the old boats graveyard! But we did not have dates!”

 

Gibbs looked disappointed. Apparently he didn’t see things the same way.

 

Making exasperated sounds, Tony paced, and pulled at his hair, and swung around to face Gibbs again. “So this thing in Vegas was what? An opportunity you couldn’t resist? That’s what you’re saying?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Are you kidding me? You…what…saw an opening? Dragged me to the altar when I was totally out of it?” Tony frowned at Gibbs and asked, “Did you know what was in that Buzzy beer? Did you go to the men’s room to give me time to drink more of it? So I’d get good and wasted so you’d feel okay about making your move?”

 

“Hey! I did not roofie you, DiNozzo!”

 

“How do I know that?” Tony demanded, even though he didn’t really believe that Gibbs would have done such a thing.

 

“I drank the stuff, too,” Gibbs said, as if that were evidence enough.

 

Tony countered, “So you’re saying you got roofied, too? And we just _happened_ to stumble into a wedding chapel, and just _happened_ to get legally bound by an Elvis impersonator? It _was_ legal, wasn’t it?” Suddenly, a thought hit him. They had made it to a hotel room, and then what? Had they slept or… “Wait a minute! You didn’t say…about the wedding night. Did _we_?” He raised his hands, frustrated and angry that he couldn’t remember anything about last night.

 

He had walked onto the plane the next morning under his own steam; that’s what Gibbs had said. Only, no matter how hard Tony tried to remember, he was drawing a blank. It was not only exasperating to have absolutely no recall of the night’s events, but it was also scary to think that anything, literally _anything_ , could have happened, and he wouldn’t remember doing it.

 

“You really think I’d jump your bones when you were half out of your gourd?” Gibbs retorted.

 

“Well, you _married_ me when I was half out of my gourd!” Tony retorted.

 

Gibbs’ mouth opened and then shut. It wasn’t as if he could deny it. “I wasn’t exactly running on all cylinders,” he said defensively.

 

Tony leaned against the table, suddenly feeling drained. “Look, I don’t really think you would. . .” He sighed heavily. “I’ve had a rough couple of days, what with chasing all over Arizona on horseback, and I was sure you were gonna get killed by that guy in the helicopter, and then I got drugged and married – to my boss, no less. Oh, and did I mention I don’t remember any of it?”

 

“It’ll come back,” Gibbs said calmly, as if he knew that for sure.

 

“You know, all I wanted was a nice steak dinner and a few beers. It would’ve been fun to take in a show. And having a memory of what went on would be icing on the goddam cake,” Tony declared, his voice rising as he spoke. “With my luck, I was probably popping out of the cake!”

 

“Nothing happened to be ashamed of,” Gibbs assured him.

 

“How can you say that?”

 

“Because I’m not ashamed of marrying you,” Gibbs pointed out.

 

That floored Tony for a moment, but it confused him, too. “Why aren’t you embarrassed? Isn’t this all…weird to you?”

 

Gibbs shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess it’s because it feels right to me.”

 

“I don’t…I don’t _know_ …because I can’t remember, even if you can. Look, I…I…I’m sorry, Boss, but I don’t _want_ to be married.” Tony felt overwhelmed and dizzy, and now he was so worked up, he was afraid his dinner was going to reappear any minute.

 

“C’mere,” Gibbs said, drawing Tony into his arms.

 

“No, no,” Tony moaned. He resisted for all of five seconds and then pretty much let Gibbs hold him up. “Right now, I just want to sleep, and tomorrow I’m going to finally get the chance to hear what Uncle Clive’s solicitor has to say. Who knows, I might even be rich. God, I’m so tired,” he mumbled into Gibbs’ warm neck.

 

“I know you are. I am, too. It’s been a hell of a few days.”

 

“I don’t know…what to do, Jethro.” It must have been the drugs talking because he rarely called Gibbs by his first name. It had just slipped out. “Jethro,” he whispered against the man’s skin.

 

Gibbs tightened his hold, saying softly, “Just let me take care of you. First, we get some sleep. It’ll be time to get up before we know it, and I’ve got the feeling we’re going to need all the strength we can muster to get through tomorrow.”

 

Tony raised his face to ask blearily, “Tomorrow?”

 

“Back to work, and your uncle’s lawyer is calling, right?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Tony nodded, and once again buried his face in Gibbs’ shoulder. Tony swayed a little but Gibbs’ strong arms steadied him, and he wondered if it would be all right if he went to sleep like this. It was really nice to let someone else do the thinking for a change.

 

It took a while before it came to Tony that he was standing in Gibbs’ dining room, in the middle of the night, with Gibbs hugging him like he really cared for him. Tony didn’t have the energy or the brain cells to figure it out, what it all meant, or if it was even real. Tomorrow…oh crap, work, the team, Ziva’s sharp eyes and McGee’s inquisitive nature, and Abby and her enthusiasm and… Tony started breathing harder as anxiety overcame him. He feared he was about to lose it, and he struggled to get out of Gibbs’ arms, but he didn’t get far.

 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Gibbs asked, looking at Tony with undisguised concern.

 

“We…we don’t have to let anyone know, do we? I don’t want them to know,” Tony said, pleading with Gibbs for understanding. “I can’t face them.” Not before he and Gibbs sorted out whether this marriage was a three-day wonder, or if it might possibly be the real thing. But no, it wasn’t real, Tony told himself. It was an impulsive act, done when both participants were under the influence of some illicit drug. The marriage probably wasn’t even legal, he thought, although at that moment, he didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

 

“I don’t care about anyone else. We keep this between us,” Gibbs readily agreed. “Let’s go upstairs now.”

 

“I’m on the couch,” Tony said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the living room.

 

“You’ll feel better if you sleep in a bed, Tony.”

 

“Okay. At least it’s probably just as easy to get divorced as it is to get married in Nevada,” Tony thought aloud. They’d deal with it, get the marriage annulled, and nobody but them would ever know. Gibbs didn’t respond, but Tony could feel the tension in his body as he assisted him up the stairs. The whole thing was as awkward as hell, and he didn’t blame Gibbs for being uptight about being married, and to a federal agent who worked for him. And yet, Gibbs had taken his hand, and hugged him, and held him up while he’d told him everything would be all right.

 

“We’ll work it out, tomorrow,” said Gibbs, as if reading Tony’s thoughts.

 

Tony nodded as he was steered into a bedroom. It wasn’t until Gibbs had tucked him into the large bed and was slipping in beside him that Tony realized they were in Gibbs’ room – in Gibbs’ bed. He should get out from under the covers and go across the hall to the guest room, he really should, but the bed was so comfortable and he couldn’t get up, anyway. Besides, now they were married, technically it was _their_ bed. Tony sighed, thinking that maybe tomorrow he’d wake up and find it was all a dream. Blinking sleepily, Tony held up his hand to look at his wedding ring, and admired the glint from the green stones. “I really like the ring, Jethro.”

 

“Me, too,” Gibbs said, holding up his hand to display the matching ring. Their palms met and their fingers laced together as if they were made for each other. After a pause, Gibbs said, “Now all I have to do is figure out how to get the transaction off the NCIS expense credit card before the director sees it.”

 

Tony pulled his hand away, raising himself up on one elbow. “You charged it on the expense account?” Tony then saw Gibbs’ wicked smile and flopped back onto the bed. “You scared me, you bastard.”

 

“I prefer Jethro,” he said, smiling. He leaned over Tony and laid a soft, dry kiss on his mouth.

 

It was nice. No alarms went off. Nobody was pointing fingers at them, two gay federal officers who just got married. By mistake. After not-dating. Before Jethro could move too far away, Tony slid his hand behind his neck and encouraged him to kiss him again. This time Jethro angled his head and Tony opened his mouth a little, and he gave him some tongue. Tony groaned and returned the favor.

 

It was a while before they parted, and even then they found ways to keep in close contact, a stroke down an arm, a foot rubbing down the back of a calf, a nudge of a chin, soft scrape of an unshaven jaw against a cheek. Jethro was sweet, and warm, and caring, all of which combined to move Tony in a way he’d never expected.

 

His hands cupping Tony’s cheeks, foreheads meeting, Jethro spoke so quietly that Tony almost didn’t hear him. “I don’t want you to go.”

 

“Go where?” Tony asked, licking his lips and wondering if Jethro would let him kiss again.

 

“If you get this inheritance,” Jethro said, his voice low with emotion. “I don’t want you to go.”

 

“You don’t?” But Tony already knew that. Gibbs didn’t like change. “Not so easy to replace me,” he agreed with his boss.

 

“You’re definitely not replaceable. You’re not going anywhere. I don’t think…” Jethro gave a deep sigh. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony said. “I promise.” He laid his hand on Jethro’s chest, the heartbeat beneath his palm steady but fast. Their mouths met again, Jethro’s kiss deeper and more possessive, and Tony responded in kind. His thumb inadvertently stroked Jethro’s nipple, causing him to moan into his mouth.

 

From then on, things changed. Their clothing was stripped away by eager hands, boxers and Jethro’s tee. They adjusted their positions, awkwardly at first, elbows and knees getting in the way, until Tony was on the bottom, and Jethro’s heavy, hard body was insistently pressing against Tony’s. Their kisses deepened, all lips and tongues, wet and hot, and clever, insistent hands everywhere, their lovemaking accompanied by groans and gasps and breathless cries of, “I need…” and, “God, I’ve waited…” and, “I want…I want you,” circling and building until Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest and he was arching and crying out Jethro’s name.

 

It could have easily felt wrong, but it didn’t. It didn’t.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 


	7. Paralyzed

**CHAPTER 7**

**_Paralyzed_**  
_~Elvis song  
_

_When you looked into my eyes_  
_I stood there like I was hypnotized._  
 _You sent a feeling to my spine,_  
 _A feeling warm and smooth and fine,_  
 _But all I could do were stand there paralyzed._  
 _When we kissed, ooh what a thrill,_  
 _You took my hand and, ooh baby, what a chill._  
 _I felt like grabbin' you real tight,_  
 _Squeeze and squeeze with all my might,_  
 _But all I could do were stand there paralyzed._

 

Tony woke up with a massive headache and a sore ass, with Jethro snoring into his chest, his fingers twitching where they curled on Tony’s stomach. Tony grinned. Jethro, his lover, his husband. He should have been alarmed, embarrassed, and he certainly should have been going through a meltdown at having had gay sex with his boss, who had apparently never dipped his dick into the man pond, either. Well, one thing for certain: if he was going to head on over to the other side, he couldn’t have chosen a better person to be with. Not that Gibbs…Jethro… was a perfect man. He was far from perfect. He was, however damned hot, and, once they’d gotten over the initial awkwardness, Jethro had proven to be pretty damned good with his fingers and tongue and his dick, exploring places Tony was pretty sure he’d never explored before.

 

To think that he had dreamed that having casual sex with Gibbs would be enough, was incredibly, stupidly wrong. Naiive, even. And to imagine that their intercourse would be limited to Gibbs fucking him – no kissing involved – well, thank God his imagination had been severely lacking. One thing for sure, Gibbs – Jethro’s – kisses, the things he could do with that mouth more than made up for his lack of verbal communication.

 

When Tony took a moment to get past the strangeness of it all, to delve into what he was feeling about the whole thing, he discovered that his admiration and friendship for Jethro had been a smokescreen over what had lain beneath the surface for a long, long time. Now that he was lying in bed with Jethro draped all over him, Tony came to realize that his feelings for Gibbs were a lot deeper and more intense than he’d ever imagined. They were good feelings, too, and if he was correctly reading Jethro’s reaction to their vigorous and hot sex, the brilliant smile and tender kisses he gave him, Tony was pretty sure that those feelings were reciprocated.

 

A glance at the bedside clock told Tony it was time to rise. He had to go back to his own place in order to get ready for work. Maybe he’d have a hot shower here before he left.

 

Just as Tony started to extricate himself from Jethro, there was a snort and Jethro cracked open one bleary blue eye.

 

“Morning, Mr. DiNozzo-Gibbs,” Tony said, grinning despite his aches and pains.

 

Jethro grumbled under his breath, slid out of bed and stumbled for the bathroom.

 

“Okay, so much for the honeymoon,” Tony muttered, hearing water running as Jethro started a shower. After debating joining Jethro, and deciding against it – not sure of his welcome – Tony slowly rolled out of bed, groaning at his sore muscles. There would be no talking to Jethro until he’d had a couple of cups of coffee. Tony found clean underwear and a clean but wrinkled tee in his travel bag, and pulled on the khakis he’d worn the day before. He’d run out of socks so he borrowed a pair of Jethro’s, and then went down to rustle up some coffee and breakfast.

 

Once the coffee had brewed, Tony took a mug upstairs and tapped at the bathroom door. The shower was no longer running. “Coffee,” he called. The door opened and a still-wet, naked Jethro stuck his hand out and grabbed the mug from Tony’s hand. Tony stood there and enjoyed the view for a couple of minutes, while Jethro drank his coffee. This was the first time he’d seen the man – his husband of less than two days – naked during daylight hours. Not bad at all, his shoulders and biceps heavy with muscle, the waist and hips pretty slim for a guy his age. His gray chest hair was more salt-and-pepper on his stomach, and his pubic hair was dark brown, which Tony found fascinating. But it was Jethro’s cock, currently at half mast and pointing at Tony, as if curious, that caught his attention. As far as penises went, it was nicely formed, and Tony was well aware that when it was erect, it was more than big enough to suit his needs. Tony started to reach out, but he glanced up to find Jethro glaring at him.

 

“This is empty,” Jethro growled. He shoved the mug in Tony’s hand and abruptly shut the door in his face.

 

“There’s more in the kitchen, when you’re ready,” Tony called through the door. He turned to leave, then thought better of it. Raising his voice slightly, he called, “You look really good. Even better in daylight than you felt in the dark. Just saying.” Tony heard a grunt, which made him smile, and headed down to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.

 

By the time Jethro came down to the kitchen, showered and dressed but looking a bit tired, Tony had a second pot of coffee brewing and English muffins in the toaster. Tony’s headache had receded, courtesy of a couple Tylenol and some orange juice, so he had placed some pills and OJ on the table in Jethro’s place, figuring he could benefit from them, too. He’d called a cab to pick him up, as his car was in the NCIS parking lot, but there was enough time to have breakfast.

 

Tony expected Jethro to head directly to the coffee maker, but Jethro surprised him by coming over and wrapping his arms around him in a big hug.

 

Jethro kissed Tony, and without releasing him, leaned back with a light frown. “DiNozzo-Gibbs?”

 

“Oh yeah. Maybe not, huh? It might get confusing at work, with two Special Agent DiNozzo-Gibbses in the same office,” Tony replied, getting a warm and fuzzy feeling, knowing they’d be sharing the same last name.

 

Gibbs played along, saying, “What happens in the DiNozzo-Gibbs household stays–“

 

“…in the DiNozzo-Gibbs household,” Tony finished up.

 

“Are you okay?” Jethro asked, looking down at Tony as if he expected to find some kind of injury.

 

Tony dropped his eyes, his face heating up. “I’m okay. You?”

 

Jethro rubbed his chin, where it was pink from beard burn. “Gotta say, my ass is a bit sore.”

 

Wishing his face wasn’t red, Tony said innocently, “Must be all that horseback riding. Maybe you need some of that horse liniment. I hear it’s good for arthritic joints.”

 

Jethro looked at Tony with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Are you saying I’ve got arthritis?”

 

“Well, your left knee makes those odd creaking noises when you bend over. But I wasn’t suggesting you need the liniment on your knee.”

 

“Just where do you think I need it?”

 

“Ummm, maybe somewhere…further north?” Tony’s hands slid down to capture Jethro’s muscled rear end.

 

“Uhuh, and you’re saying you want to rub it on my ass?”

 

Tony laughed. “Now, that sounds very tempting, but we don’t have time. How about tonight? And maybe you can return the favor.” The way Jethro was looking at him, and licking his lips as if he was hungry, gave Tony an odd fluttery feeling in his chest. Jethro leaned into him and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. It probably would have continued for some time, but the beeping of the coffee maker interrupted them. Tony mumbled into Jethro’s mouth, in between kisses, “Mmm. Coffee. It’s ready.”

 

“There’s something I want right now, and it ain’t coffee,” Jethro admitted, sampling a taste of the skin under Tony’s jaw.

 

Angling his head to allow Jethro better access to his neck, Tony said, “Oh God, that’s very…um…romantic, and I hate to ruin a beautiful moment, but I have to head home and get ready for work.” He opened his eyes and found Jethro smiling at him in a special way that Tony had never seen before. Flustered, Tony explained, “I don’t have any clean clothes.”

 

“Borrow mine,” Jethro said, sucking gently on Tony’s neck, down by the juncture of his shoulder.

 

“Oh, that’s mighty tempting but I’ve already called a cab. Plus, I need a suit and…well…yours are Sears.” Tony hadn’t showered yet either, but that didn’t seem to bother Jethro at all.

 

Jethro gave a disappointed sound and nipped at Tony’s skin.

 

“Hey, keep the hickies below the water line,” Tony warned. “We _are_ going to keep this a secret, right?”

 

Jethro sighed and released Tony. “Nobody’ll ever find out from me.” He put milk and sugar on the table, and refilled his coffee mug. “You want some?” Tony nodded and Jethro poured him a cup, and placed it on the kitchen table, along with hazelnut creamer, which he kept on hand for Tony. He took a seat, gingerly, Tony noticed.

 

Tony brought over a plate of buttered English muffins, and a box of Jethro’s favorite cereal, Wheat-Os, and sat beside him, taking care to sit down slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jethro grinning. They ate breakfast silently until Tony asked, “Jethro?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Did either of us seem unsure last night?” Jethro asked, an eyebrow lifting in query.

 

Smiling, Tony shrugged. “No, but we didn’t exactly go into this with our eyes wide open. I still don’t remember anything beyond being in a room with long benches, with Elvis singing in the background. I think…maybe we’re rushing into this?”

 

“We may have jumped in, ass over heels, but think of all the wedding crap we’ve avoided, all those arrangements, and the venue, and the guests…”

 

“Yeah, those seating arrangements are enough to kill ya,” Tony agreed with a quirk of a smile. “I remember my dad’s third and fourth weddings, and all these choices he was asked to make, when it was obvious he didn’t care. The sixth one was a circus, literally,” he said with a chuckle.

 

“What happened to the fifth one?”

 

“What? Oh, the wedding. I was fourteen. Drank vodka martinis until I was sick, and got packed off to school right before the ceremony. Put me off weddings forever,” Tony said, softening his words with a smile. “So how would we handle walking down the aisle?”

 

“Shoulder to shoulder,” Jethro said, being sensible.

 

“Or, we could go against tradition. My dad could walk you, and Jackson would escort me,” Tony suggested.

 

All humor left Jethro’s eyes. “Not your father. I don’t want him around.” He didn’t apologize, but Tony nodded, understanding Jethro’s dislike of his father, knowing he was being protective.

 

After a moment, Jethro said, “Weddings can be a lot of work.”

 

“And expense,” Tony pointed out.

 

“Maybe getting roofied by BuzzBrew is the way to go, after all,” Jethro said, raising his coffee mug in a mock salute.

 

Tony shook his head and sighed. “I’d rather be present at my own wedding. Maybe it’ll come back to me in a few days. I hear that happens when you’ve been roofied,” he said hopefully. “I’d like to know how it went.”

 

Jethro laid a hand on Tony’s arm. “Hey, if you don’t remember, we can always do it again, here in DC. Do it the way you want.”

 

Surprised, Tony asked, “You’d do that? For me? Seating arrangements and all?”

 

“It’d be for both of us. But yeah, I’ll do whatever you want, Tony.”

 

Tony swallowed. “You really mean that,” he said, amazed.

 

Jethro nodded. “Of course I would.” He cleared his throat and looked Tony in the eye. “Hell, I’ve been in love with you ever since I saw you in that jumpsuit that was two sizes too small.”

 

Tony stared at Jethro, who was grinning, and he barked out a laugh. “Oh my God. That was years ago, when McGee first came on board. You kept this a secret all this time! You never said…”

 

“I wasn’t ready, I guess. What about you?” Jethro asked, with a sideways look at Tony.

 

“Of course I liked you. I mean, we connected right away, and you did hire me ­– and we made a really good two-man team – but that’s as far as it went,” Tony admitted. Jethro looked so crestfallen that Tony leaned into him and said, “Okay, it was a bit more than that. A couple of weeks after I started working with you, it hit me just how much I lusted after you. You gotta understand you were this scary alpha boss, and you were barking at me all the time, and I was scared shitless of doing something wrong.”

 

Jethro seemed pleased. “You lusted after me?”

 

Tony nodded slowly. “I don’t think I understood how much I loved you until this morning, Jethro. You were as grumpy as hell but I still cared for you. It was there all the time, but it’s as if I just woke up or something.” He slung an arm around Jethro and hugged him. “I love you and I can’t imagine being without you. We’re going to be able to make this work, aren’t we?”

 

“Damn right we are.” Jethro leaned into the hug, his hand settling at the back of Tony’s neck.

 

“That’s good.” Tony stood, and Jethro rose with him. “I know this is crazy, but I love you, Jethro Gibbs, and if you’re okay with it, I’d like to stay married to you.” Tony gave him a kiss full of promise, expressing the deep love he hadn’t even realized he’d had for the man until that morning.

 

Their lips parted and Jethro sighed. “Wow, if I’d known this was possible, I’d have taken you to Vegas a lot earlier.”

 

“I don’t think this would have worked a few years ago, Jethro. I think this is good timing, the best timing for us,” Tony said.

 

Jethro kissed him tenderly, and when he pulled back, he said softly, “I love you, Tony.”

 

Unable to stop smiling, Tony laid his palms on Jethro’s chest and reminded him, “I have to go home. The taxi’ll be here soon.”

 

“Cancel it.”

 

“I can’t. Clothes, remember?”

 

“Maybe you should think about moving your stuff over here,” Jethro suggested.

 

Tony stopped and stared. “You mean…?”

 

“Yeah, I want you to move in with me. Make this your home,” Jethro said with a firm nod.

 

“Wow, I didn’t… didn’t expect that.”

 

“Too fast?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fast but…” Tony smiled, all of a sudden knowing that he wanted, quite badly, for this to work out. “I want to live with you. I want us to be married, for this to be real,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around his husband.

 

“Believe me, it’s real.” Jethro held onto Tony, kissing his cheek, his neck, the corner of his mouth, until Tony took a breath and gently extricated himself from the hug. With a sigh, Jethro asked, “You’re sure you’re going to be okay to work?”

 

“I’m fine. The weird fuzzy feeling has gone, fingies back to normal, so I’m good to go.” Tony wiggled his fingers in the air and gave Jethro a smile that assured him that everything was fine. A glance at the wall clock told him that it was nearly eight. Right on time, a horn sounded out front of the house. “I gotta run.” Tony reluctantly parted from Jethro, and went into the living room to pick up his bag.

 

Jethro followed him, hovering. “You go see Ducky anyway. He has to clear you.”

 

Knowing he didn’t have any choice, Tony agreed. “I’ll see if he has the results of our blood tests when I’m down there.”

 

“Don’t spend too much time chatting with him. We have reports to write up,” Gibbs said.

 

Outside, a horn sounded, and Tony said, “Okay, Boss. See you at work.”

 

“Don’t be late, DiNozzo.”

 

And just like that, things were back to normal.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 


	8. Burning Love

**CHAPTER 8**

**_Burning Love_**  
_~Elvis song  
_

_Lord Almighty,_  
 _I feel my temperature rising_  
 _Higher higher_  
 _It's burning through to my soul_  
 _Girl, girl, girl, girl_  
 _You gonna set me on fire_  
 _My brain is flaming_  
 _I don't know which way to go_  
  


Only things weren’t at _all_ normal, as Tony was reminded, once he was dressed in a very expensive suit and was walking into the Navy Yard. He’d just made it through the security checkpoint in the lobby and was heading for a waiting elevator when it hit him: there had been a DVD in the envelope on Gibbs’ table. A DVD with the wedding chapel’s logo on the plastic case, a likeness of Elvis’ face with a background of two entwined hearts. There had been something in the brochure about purchasing a Ceremony Video. As part of the package deal you could choose to have the video posted on YouTube for only $30. Oh fuck! Their ceremony was going to be seen by the entire world on YouTube! Tony  & Jethro being married by a crooning Elvis! With his luck, it would probably go viral.

 

By the time the elevator opened to the squad room, Tony was having a major meltdown. Luckily, he had only taken a few steps across the squad room when Gibbs swooped in, grabbed his elbow, and steered him towards the stairs. “You need to see Ducky,” was all Gibbs said.

 

The whole way down to Autopsy, Tony was babbling about the video and being outed big time. “Now I really need that inheritance money, so I can escape to a deserted island where nobody has even heard of YouTube or the internet!”

 

Outside the Autopsy doors, Gibbs came to a halt, where he pressed Tony against the wall. “You need to calm down,” he growled in Tony’s ear.

 

“But Boss, it’ll be all over the building in no time, and everybody’ll know and–“

 

Gibbs slapped his hand over Tony’s mouth, and jammed his leg between Tony’s, exerting pressure on his groin. “Calm down. Take deep breaths,” he intoned.

 

From behind Gibbs’ warm, calloused palm, Tony managed to mumble, “Can’t breathe… hand… mouth.” He wasn’t sure if the thigh pressing against his groin was intentional or not. Knowing Gibbs, it was, to take his mind off the likelihood of their relationship becoming public knowledge.

 

Gibbs slowly lowered his hand, but he didn’t let up the pressure on Tony’s groin. “You think you can hold it together now?”

 

Tony glanced down at where their bodies met. “That feels…really good,” he panted, grabbing at Gibbs’ crotch.

 

“Jesus, DiNozzo.” Gibbs stepped away, looking slightly shocked.

 

Okay, so apparently that wasn’t a blatant come-on. Tony just about whined, but at that moment Abby came around the corner and stopped as soon as she saw the two men. Swallowing hard, Tony smoothed his hair back and tried to act as if everything was just fine. It didn’t appear that he was being very convincing, by the way Abby was looking from Tony to Gibbs, and back, with concern.

 

“Whatever you two are fighting about, you need to stop it right now.”

 

“Not fighting, Abs,” Gibbs said. “Everything’s fine.”

 

Tony noticed Gibbs’ neck was flushed, and could feel his own face heating up.

 

“You’re a really bad liar for a professionally trained special agent, Special Agent Gibbs,” Abby said pointedly. “You can’t take it out on Tony, just because he was a pain in the butt up in the badlands.”

 

“I was not! Where’d you hear that?” demanded Tony.

 

“I’ve been talking to Dina Risi,” Abby replied with a frown, still inspecting the two men as if she was trying to solve a mystery. “Are you sure you’re both all right?”

 

“We’re fine,” Gibbs said gruffly.

 

She tapped one booted foot. “Hmmm. Gibbs, you have to remember Tony’s not so much a mountain lion, as a house cat, and he doesn’t do well far away from the creature comforts of home. You should give him some slack.”

 

Tony protested, “Hey! I did okay. I rode a horse without training wheels, even slept on a rock, although it seems as though all of Arizona is really one big rock and I didn’t exactly sleep, because Sheriff Boyd and Gibbs were snoring like a couple of grizzly bears–“

 

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs said abruptly.

 

“She started it, Boss!”

 

“Enough! Go and see Ducky,” Gibbs ordered.

 

Abby said, “See, you’re barking orders at him, Gibbs, when a gentle touch will get you a lot further.”

 

“You planning to stroke my fur?” Tony teased.

 

Gibbs glared at Tony, but before he could open his mouth, Abby ordered, “Stop poking at Gibbs, Tony, and Gibbs, you need to say you’re sorry for talking to Tony like that.” Both men stared at her, because they all knew that Gibbs wasn’t prone to making apologies. But Abby nodded in encouragement. “Go ahead, make up. Kiss and make up!”

 

Luckily, Gibbs did the smart thing and stalked past Abby, straight to the elevator. As he went, he called over his shoulder, “You, go see Ducky. Abby, leave him alone!”

 

As soon as the elevator doors closed on Gibbs, Abby turned to Tony, grabbed his arm, and asked excitedly, “So, tell me about Arizona, and how Gibbs shot down a helicopter with a Sharps rifle! And all about Las Vegas! Did you go to Cirque de Soleil? Did you see Elvis?”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Ducky observed Tony over the rim of his glasses as he removed the blood pressure cuff from his upper arm. “Your pressure, my dear boy, is unusually high.”

 

“Must be the result of spending the last thirty-six hours in Gibbs’ company,” Tony said, absently scratching his bare chest.

 

“Or the after-effects of whatever was slipped into your drink. Apart from your blood pressure, you appear to be quite recovered.”

 

“I really feel fine, Ducky. Body aches and fuzzy head are all better.” Tony smiled as much charm as he could muster.

 

Ducky, who wasn’t so easily taken in, inquired, “And your memory?”

 

Tony couldn’t lie. “Yeah, that’s the thing. I vaguely recall Gibbs helping me along the sidewalk, and for some reason I keep humming Elvis tunes, but I’m drawing a blank about getting to our hotel room, or waking up and boarding a plane the next morning. Apparently I was able to walk and talk on my own.”

 

“Yes, Jethro told me that you were mobile, although your eyes appeared to be glazed over. He said you would speak if asked something directly, but you slept the entire flight home.”

 

“Believe me, I wish I remembered. It feels weird that I had conversations I don’t know I had,” Tony said truthfully. “We don’t know what caused this yet?”

 

“We will know soon. Abby should have the results of the tox screen within the hour. It may reveal nothing, for as you know, the chemical composition of most date rape drugs would have broken down by now, and traces would not be discernable in any test. ”

 

“Did she ask whose fluids she was checking out?” Tony inquired.

 

“I certainly wouldn’t divulge your identities. However, I am sure Abigail’s curiosity will compel her to ask for further details, at which point I shall be compelled to lie,” Ducky said with a smile. “May I ask, Anthony, what these bruises on your lower back might be? And, if I am not mistaken, you have quite an array of love-bites on your neck.” He lightly tapped Tony’s bare neck.

 

Mortified, Tony grabbed his shirt and pulled it on hastily. “You know me and the ladies,” he said with a brisk laugh.

 

“Yes, but none of these bruises are more than a few hours old, and I believe I would have noticed them last night while examining you,” Ducky said, sounding disappointed that Tony would lie to him.

 

Tony felt really bad, but he was unwilling to disclose that Jethro had made the marks Ducky was so interested in. “Look, I’m sorry but…can you just believe me that the hickies and any bruises weren’t from a stranger?”

 

Ducky slowly nodded, but Tony could see the cogs turning in his brain. Any second, the ME would put two and two together.

 

All of a sudden, Ducky smiled. “Do you know that the word hickie – while the origin is somewhat obscure – was used in the early 1900s to mean a gadget or small device?”

 

“As in doohickey?” Tony asked, interested despite his need to get upstairs, and to work.

 

“And you do not wish to share the origin of these particular doohickeys,” Ducky said with an amused smile.

 

Tony shrugged and said vaguely, as he buttoned up his shirt, “Oh, you know…office romance.”

 

“Anyone I might know?”

 

“Um, yeah, but…we don’t want to broadcast it, Ducky. You understand,” Tony said hopefully.

 

“I believe I do, and if I may say so, keeping your affair close to the chest is probably a rather good idea. Of course, if you ever need anyone to talk to, my door is open and my lips shall remain sealed.” Ducky nodded wisely.

 

Tony knew the ME wasn’t fooled. “Thanks, Ducky.”

 

Ducky placed a hand upon Tony’s shoulder and searched his face. “Are you sure about this, Anthony?”

 

“I am. I’m fine. And thanks for worrying,” Tony said. All of a sudden, he had to smile. “It’s not what I expected, but I’m really happy. I’m a bit confused, ‘cause it hit us out of the blue, and I had this sort of panic attack earlier, but…it’s good.”

 

“I shall keep an eye on things, just to make sure that all parties are treated fairly.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Tony said sincerely.

 

With a brisk nod, Ducky said, “I will let you know as soon as the results are in.” He escorted Tony to the door.

 

“Thanks, for everything.”

 

“Of course, my dear boy. And, a word of advice, tell him to make any future marks a few inches lower.”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Gibbs looked over McGee’s report and placed it on top of Tony’s. “Good work, everybody. Get everything ready to hand over to the FBI.”

 

Tim immediately protested, “But Boss!”

 

“C’mon, this is our case,” Tony joined in.

 

“Are any of Sax’s other victims sailors?” asked Gibbs, already knowing the answer was ‘No.’ “Not our problem then. Our investigation is limited to the murder of Special Agent Patterson, and we are closing the case. Everything else goes to the FBI.”

 

Ziva finished a phone call and said to Gibbs, “I am to pass on the news that Sheriff Boyd is recovering from his injuries, and he is annoyed that we have not yet returned his Sharps rifle to him.”

 

“He’ll get it back as soon as Abby has finished with it,” Gibbs replied. He was currently filling out forms in triplicate for having discharged a weapon that was not his own, and for shooting down a helicopter and causing two deaths, one of which was the man who had killed NCIS Agent Patterson.

 

Ziva raised her eyebrows at Tony. “The sheriff also wanted to know if you have recovered from your sore ass.”

 

Tony sent his report to the printer and carefully walked over to gather the printed pages. He returned to his desk and sat down as normally as he could. “I’ll have you know my ass is fine.”

 

Leering at Tony, Ziva said, “I am sure you have a fine ass, Tony, even if it is a hairy butt, but…”

 

Gibbs interceded, saying sharply, “DiNozzo held his own out there, and unless you have something to say about the case, Ziva, I don’t want to hear it.”

 

Ziva appeared slightly taken aback at Gibbs’ sharp tone, but she backed off, as instructed.

 

Tony smiled at Gibbs, basking in the rare praise. “Why, thank you, Boss.”

 

Gibbs grunted and demanded, “Paperwork?”

 

“Just coming up,” Tony said. He jotted a couple of notes at the end, and took the paperwork over to Gibbs.

 

Gibbs looked up and smiled at Tony, a twinkle in his eye. “Ducky cleared you. He told me off, though.”

 

“He means well.”

 

“Yes, he does,” Gibbs replied. “He gave me advice on the location of some doohickey.”

 

“Ah, yes, me, too.”

 

Gibbs lowered his voice to a near whisper. “He also threatened me with his forceps if I step out of line.”

 

Tony suppressed a smile. “I’d have liked to seen that.”

 

Gibbs looked up at him, his expression sincere. “Just letting you know, I won’t.”

 

“I trust you.” Tony managed to keep a neutral expression on his face as he did an about face and returned to his desk. He had an inbox full of emails to go through, and there was the usual office paperwork to deal with as well, something he was not looking forward to doing.

 

Gibbs fielded a phone call and rose to his feet as soon as it was over. All three members of his team looked expectantly at him, but Gibbs gave a slight shake of his head, and crooked a thumb over his shoulder. “DiNozzo, you’re with me.”

 

Unsure if he should feel favored or fearful, Tony followed Gibbs without question. As the elevator doors closed behind them, Tony heard Ziva and McGee asking each other what Tony could be in trouble for.

 

Gibbs stared straight ahead until Tony ventured to ask, “Am I in trouble? You’re not going to squash me against a wall again, are you?” He sent Gibbs a hopeful look.

 

“I get the feeling separating work from our private lives isn’t going to be as easy as I thought,” Gibbs said with a sigh.

 

“If you’d like to continue what we were doing earlier, when we got interrupted, I’m up for it. Once we get off work, of course,” Tony said, amused.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. We got the toxicology tests back.”

 

“Good or bad?” Tony asked.

 

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs stepped out with Tony on his six. “Abby didn’t say. Ducky didn’t tell her they were ours,” he assured Tony.

 

“Good.” Tony was worried because, if he knew Abby, she’d have already figured out this wasn’t part of a case, and that the blood samples were theirs. “What if she…?”

 

Gibbs took Tony’s arm and guided him a little way down the hallway, out of sight of Abby’s lab. He pulled a chain out from the neck of his shirt, with his wedding ring hanging on it. “If she finds out, then we get to wear these out in the open,” Jethro said.

 

Tony patted his inside breast pocket, where he’d stashed his ring. It was wrapped in a small cloth meant for cleaning eyeglasses, and although he liked having it sitting so close to his heart, it would be safer to keep it at home.

 

The rings seemed important to Jethro. Marriage was important to him, even if he’d made some regrettable choices with his previous marriages. Suddenly, Tony wanted, very much, to be able to stop hiding, to openly call Jethro Gibbs his husband, and he had a feeling that Jethro felt the same way. Tony reached out and took his hand. “I’ve been thinking…maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, letting people know.”

 

“Maybe not,” Jethro agreed, smiling at him in a way that Tony could honestly say he’d never before seen him smile. Not while on the job, or for that matter, anywhere that he could recall. It was a really nice smile, a warm one that lit up Jethro’s whole face. Tony couldn’t help but smile back in the same manner, feeling something good and secure settle in his heart.

 

“Talk about it tonight?” asked Tony.

 

“Is this gonna be a regular thing? This talking?”

 

“Might do us both some good,” Tony pointed out.

 

Gibbs nodded. “Okay. Baby steps, though.” He led the way into Abby’s lab, where they were greeted by the usual ear-splitting noise that she called music. By now, however, Abby knew enough to turn it off the moment she saw Gibbs approach.

 

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! And Tony!” Abby rushed over and pulled Gibbs over to her workstation.

 

Tony followed, looking over her shoulder at the screen. He read, “R-CH(NH2)COOH-fermentation–>…Wait a minute, is that the formula for GHB, carbon monoxide and…?”

 

“Oooh, Tony took Chemistry 101!”

 

“Actually, it was Advanced Chemistry, just in case I pursued pharmacology.”

 

“Really?” Abby looked at Tony with interest.

 

“The truth is, I only took the class because I was interested in Ms. Brewster, the hot science teacher, and besides, the guys in Shroomery Club needed to brush up on chemical compounds and–” There was an abrupt slap to the back of Tony’s head, bringing his babbling to an end. “Sorry, Boss.”

 

With a straight face, Gibbs reached over and smoothed down Tony’s hair where his slap had ruffled the short strands.

 

Amused, Abby said, “Shroomery Club? You have to tell me more.”

 

“What are we looking at?” Gibbs asked, getting to the point.           

 

Gibbs’ sharp tone brought Abby back to the matter at hand. “Okay, the blood samples Ducky gave me to process contained traces of a natural version of GHB, yeast and a lot of MSG. Home-brewed GHB.”

 

“Natural?” Gibbs asked.

 

“I’ve read about this. If you add MSG to beer, cider or wine, the yeast will metabolize the MSG into GHB. It’s very simple to do, and the ingredients are easy to find. The result is a euphoric buzz similar to the chemically created version of a date rape drug. The problem, and it’s a huge one, is there is no way to regulate how potent the mix is going to be, and there have been reports of home brewers getting blackouts after drinking only two pints of hard cider. Whoever this blood belongs to? I’d say one of these donors must have been having a high old time, because even after twenty-four hours, there was a large amount of GHB remaining in his blood. Sample #2 wasn’t as bad, but you can never tell how an individual will react to an unregulated substance like this.”

 

Gibbs was glowering at her. “So it’s dangerous,” he stated.

 

“Well yeah, but don’t assume that the brewer knew how strong this was, unless he sampled it himself. Oh, does this blood belong to the brewer?” She looked from Tony to Gibbs for an answer, but Gibbs had already turned on his heel and left the lab.

 

“Something like that,” Tony said. “Catch you later, Abs!”

 

“Don’t forget to call me the minute you hear about your inheritance,” she called after Tony.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~          


	9. It Feels So Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to penumbria_fics for the additional art she created, at the end of the story. It's perfect!

**CHAPTER 9**  

 ** _It Feels So Right_**  
_~Elvis song  
_

_Step in these arms, where you belong_  
_It feels so right, so right_  
_How can it be wrong?_  
  
_There's something in the way you kiss_  
_That makes me want to hold you tight_  
_I know that nothing can't be wrong_  
_that feels so right._  
  
_Each time we touch, you thrill me so_  
_It means so much, so much_  
_I can't let you go_  
  
_This isn't only for tonight_  
_We're gonna love our whole life long_  
_'Cause baby, if it feels so right_  
_How can it be wrong?_

 

Tony placed the brochure for a bright red Ferrari 500 GTB Fiorano on his desk while he waited for the much-anticipated phone call from Uncle Clive’s solicitor, Mr. Hubbard. He might never be able to afford a new Ferrari, but the used ones were going for around $300,000 these days. Tony was so focused on waiting for the phone call that he didn’t even hear the conversation about the case going on nearby. Gibbs, McGee and Ziva were wrapping up the details, but the killer of Agent Patterson was dead, and Tony’s report was complete, so he had nothing more to do.

 

The phone rang and Tony nervously said, to nobody in particular, “That's my future calling. Excuse me.” He picked up and said, “Yes, Mr. Hubbard. How are you, sir?”

 

In the background, Tim and Ziva were talking about ballistics and a mining scam, and Tony could sense that Gibbs was watching him like a hawk. 

 

Tony exclaimed, “That is unbelievable! Okay, well, thank you very much. Yes, thank you very much. All right. See you, pal.” Sweat tricked down the back of Tony’s neck as he leaned back in his chair with a sigh. All he could think of was his brief conversation with the solicitor, and how he had completely forgotten about the IOU he’d written when is uncle had loaned him money for college, so many years ago. He had to gather his wits and pay attention when someone started talking to him.

 

“Did...Uncle Clive leave a big estate?”

 

Tony stared at the expectant faces of Gibbs, Ziva and Tim for a long moment, before bursting out with, “Huge! Twenty-four million pounds! That's over thirty-five million dollars. Yes! Yes, it is! Yes, it is!” They were looking at him like he’d lost his marbles, which he was very close to doing. It had been a very trying few days, what with the tension-filled wait to hear about the inheritance, trekking around in the West, plus the Las Vegas fiasco, and discovering that, apparently, both he and Gibbs were gay. Tony was running on empty and, for some reason, his brain told him to say, “And he left it all to my sniveling cousin, Crispian. I mean, I'll give you, granted he did take care of Uncle Clive when he was ill, and he gave a very moving eulogy.”

 

“Why is the lawyer calling you?” Of course Gibbs would ask that question.

 

“Oh, when I was in college, I borrowed ten thousand dollars from Uncle Clive, and, I guess I signed an IOU,” Tony said with a shrug. “I don't really remember, but Crispian says that he found this document. Said ‘IOU,’ and apparently I owe him that ten thousand dollars plus compounded interest over the last twenty years. Do you know how much that is, by the way?” he asked, his voice rising with tension.

 

From the looks on their faces, they could tell he was screwed. Gibbs was smirking, though McGee seemed genuinely appalled. “I am sorry for your loss,” said McGee.

 

Tony almost laughed. He threw his hands in the air and cried, “It's only money!”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

           

Gibbs phoned Detective Ramos from the Las Vegas homicide division and asked a few questions about the brew pub, Bottoms Up, where he Tony had eaten when in Vegas. Without mentioning the contaminated beer, Gibbs inquired about their reputation.

 

Ramos immediately relayed the information that there had been several complaints about the overwhelming effects of some beer at the restaurant, coincidentally on the same night Gibbs and Tony had been in Vegas. “The Department of Health has started an investigation, and the word is that someone in the brewery was getting a bit too creative with the additives. It probably won’t be deemed malicious, and they’re going to get their license suspended for a while, but nobody was hurt by drinking the tainted beer.” Ramos then tentatively asked Gibbs if he was aware of anyone who had ingested the beer and was suffering ill-effects.

 

Gibbs replied he didn’t have any complaints.

 

After that, Ramos informed Gibbs that her department had found two more murders they could attribute to the late Jerome Sax, and she said she’d send NCIS their findings.

 

Before the ink was dry on the final report into the death of Special Agent Patterson, Director Vance informed the team that he had a special interest in a murder case in Chicago, and he was accompanying them there to oversee the investigation.

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

           

           

There was a loud clatter and some swearing, coming from the kitchen. “You need help?” Tony called from his seat in the living room.

 

“No. No, I’ve got it,” came the reply.

 

It was a good five minutes before Jethro appeared at the door carrying a tray with two single-serve chicken pot pies, utensils and enough bottles of beer to last through dinner. He set it all down on the coffee table in front of the couch, while Tony swept the TV guide section of the paper and remote controls out of the way.

 

Tony teased, “You sure there’s enough beer there? I wouldn’t want you to feel thirsty or anything.”

 

Jethro shrugged. “At least it ain’t BuzzBrew.”

 

Tony grabbed a bottle and raised it in a toast. “Here’s to that!”

 

Settling beside Tony, Jethro handed him his dinner and a couple of paper napkins, and then fished around for the remote. Tony watched with amusement as Jethro squinted at the buttons before selecting one and then pressing another. To Tony’s surprise, the DVD player powered up and a disc started whirring inside the device. “You choose a movie?” Tony asked. He hadn’t even known that Jethro was capable of working the DVD player, much less that he’d care enough to pick a movie to watch.

 

“You wearing your ring?” asked Jethro, peering at Tony’s finger.

 

“At home, I do,” Tony said, noticing Jethro was wearing his ring, too.

 

“Good. I’ll make a safe box to keep them in, for when we’re at work. You’d better eat,” Jethro said, taking a forkful of the pot pie while watching the screen as it came to life.

 

Tony did the same, but he choked on his food when the sound of Elvis singing ‘Burning Love’ started, and “Tony & Jethro’s Wedding” appeared on the screen in a flowing script. “Oh no,” Tony cried, shutting his eyes. “I told you I can’t watch this!”

 

Jethro bumped his shoulder against Tony’s and said, “Considering neither of us remember what happened, this is evidence, and we need to watch it.”

 

“Evidence?” Tony had known the DVD was sitting there, but he’d blatantly ignored its presence for days. He was more afraid of what it might contain, than concerned about _not_ knowing what had occurred during his blackout period. Jethro had regained some memories, but he said they were spotty. Now he was making them watch this video of their wedding ceremony at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel. “But it’s going to be embarrassing, I know it!”

 

Jethro put his dinner aside and slipped his arm around Tony’s shoulders. “C’mon, it’ll be fine.”

 

Staring at Jethro like he was crazy, Tony replied, “Somehow I doubt that.” He picked up a beer bottle and handed one to Jethro thinking they were going to need something stronger, just to get through this.

 

Jethro kept his arm where it was as the titles disappeared and the scene inside the chapel unfolded. The chapel itself wasn’t too gaudy, decorated in white with gold accents. Then Reverend Billy Bob ‘Elvis’ Cooper came into the picture, dressed in a high-collared white jumpsuit covered in glittering jewels, his black hair in an Elvis ‘do, and a pair of big sunglasses shading his eyes. Tony couldn’t help laughing, while wondering if the two grooms were going to appear in Elvis costumes, too.

 

He didn’t have long to wait to find out. A woman with teased black Priscilla Presley hair entered the frame and opened the doors at the back of the chapel with a flourish.

 

In walked two men.

 

“Oh my God,” Tony cried, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. Beside him, he heard Jethro make a choking sound, and no wonder.

 

Walking down the aisle to the beat of ‘Hound Dog,’ was Tony, dressed in a black leather jacket and sunglasses. He was hand-in-hand with Jethro, who was nearly unrecognizable in a gold lamé tuxedo jacket, worn over his regular clothing. Neither of them was walking too steadily, and at times, Tony leaned heavily on Jethro.

 

“Holy shit, you’re right out of North Hollywood, Jethro!” Tony exclaimed, laughing so hard he bent over.

 

Onscreen, when halfway down the aisle, Tony stumbled. Jethro quickly slid an arm around his waist. From then on, it looked as though Jethro was all that kept him on his feet. They were laughing onscreen, and Jethro wiped his eyes a couple of times.

 

Tony glanced at the man sitting beside him on the couch, and asked, “Tears of joy?”

 

“Damned if I know,” Jethro replied, though he, too, seemed to be getting a kick out of the video.

 

Reverend Cooper finished singing one song, and smoothly moved into ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love _,_ ’ while Tony clung to Jethro.

 

The two men sitting on Jethro’s couch could hear gold-lamé Jethro ask the woman if she had the rings. Upon hearing her reply of, “Sure, honey,” Tony exclaimed, “I remember her! She’s Bess, the minister’s wife, right?”

 

“I think she was one of the witnesses.”

 

“There was a guy there, the Reverend’s brother. He had the video camera,” Tony recalled. “Hey, I remember! It’s coming back!”

 

Onscreen, Tony was singing along with Elvis.  
“Take my hand,  
Take my whole life, too,  
For I can’t help falling in love with you.  
For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

 

In the wedding chapel, Jethro, who was swaying a little on his feet, removed Tony’s sunglasses and smiled at him as if he could do no wrong. Jethro patted his arm. “That’s my boy,” they could hear him say.

 

Tony turned to Jethro and asked, “You did _not_ just call me your boy?”

 

Jethro shrugged. “If the blue suede shoe fits, honey.” Tony protested but Jethro pointed to the screen. “Pay attention. This is the good part.”

 

Reverend Billy Bob ‘Elvis’ Cooper was speaking. “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to witness, before family and friends, the exchange of solemn vows between Jethro “Hound Dog” Gibbs, and Tony "Who Loves Ya Baby?" DiNozzo. If there be any suspicious minds present in the audience, don’tcha think it's time to speak now or never? Their love won't wait.”

 

At this point, the two men about to be wedded onscreen, as well as the two men on Jethro’s couch, were all laughing. Jethro shushed Tony and told him to listen. “I don’t want to miss this.”

 

Reverend Cooper continued, “Jethro “Hound Dog” Gibbs, repeat after me: It only took one night to get stuck on you, and now my wish has come true.”

 

Jethro did as he was told, not even stumbling over the words. “It only took one night to get stuck on you, and now my wish has come true.”

 

The minister nodded and said, “You big hunka hunka burnin' love! I thought you were nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time, but now I know you're my teddy bear 'cause tigers play too rough, and lions ain't the kind you love enough.”

 

Jethro flapped a hand at the minister and said, “Yabba yabba, I agree, he’s my hunk of burning love, and I hope he loves me half as much as I love him.” Beside him Tony was staring at him, his mouth hanging open, apparently all words failing him.

 

Reverend Cooper continued, “Repeat after me: So kiss me quick and love me tender, for I can't help falling in love with you.”

 

Rocking on his heels, Jethro smiled at Tony. “I can't help falling in love with you, Tony.”

 

“You do?” Tony asked in wonderment.

 

“Damn right I do,” Jethro replied. He must have leaned a little too heavily into Tony because they both tilted at a dangerous angle. The minister and Bess quickly righted them.

 

Speaking quickly, Reverend Cooper said, “Now it’s your turn, Tony. Okay, Tony "Who Loves Ya Baby?" DiNozzo, repeat after me: It took a hard-headed man to make me king of the whole wide world.”

 

“He sure is hard-headed,” Tony said with a laugh. Jethro scowled at him, but only for a moment.

 

Apparently seeing he wasn’t going to get Tony to repeat the entire vows, the reverend continued, “Now say: I thought you were the devil in disguise but you turned out to be my puppet on a string.”

 

“No, I’ve never been scared of him,” Tony said, never taking his eyes off Jethro’s face.

 

“I used to live in the hotel down the end of lonely street but now it's viva Las Vegas, 'cause I need your love tonight,” Reverend Cooper said.

 

“I do need your love tonight,” said Tony.

 

Jethro smiled sweetly at him and replied, “I do, too.”

 

Sitting on the couch in Jethro’s living room, Jethro and Tony joined hands.

 

Reverend Cooper intoned, “Please take this moment to exchange your gifts of love.” Tony and Jethro didn’t make a move, so Cooper prompted, “The rings?”

 

Bess brought out a white satin pillow upon which rested two gold rings, with their green gemstones glittering in the chapel lights, and offered them to Jethro and Tony. Jethro picked up a ring and, with his legs braced wide apart for balance, he slipped the ring on Tony’s finger. Tony fumbled a bit, but he managed to get the matching ring on Jethro, while Reverend Cooper announced, “By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you ‘husband and husband,’ but remember, there is no return to sender. You may kiss your cousin.”

 

Jethro was so entranced by what was transpiring on the DVD, that he gripped Tony’s hand a bit too hard. Tony squeezed his hand and Jethro got the message, muttering, “Sorry,” under his breath. Tony couldn’t have described what he was feeling when, a moment later, the Jethro in the video leaned into a brilliantly smiling Tony, and kissed him. He was happy to see they looked like they had meant their vows, but he was sad they’d been under the influence of the homemade GHB when they’d exchanged their vows.

 

Reverend Cooper stood next to the two men, smiling at them, as they were still locked in a kiss, and spoke to the camera. “Please join me in welcoming Mr. and Mr. DiNozzo-Gibbs. Folks, this has got me all shook up, so please love me tender.” He picked up a guitar and played a sweet version of ‘Love Me Tender’ as the camera panned back to the newly married couple, still kissing.

 

There was some advertising for various wedding packages the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel offered, but Tony turned the sound down and leaned into Jethro, who took him into is arms. Smiling, Tony said, “I really don’t remember that kiss too well, so I think that maybe we should reenact it.”

 

With a straight face, Jethro asked, “You think maybe it’ll help you to remember?”

 

“We should try,” Tony said, nodding, straddling Jethro’s lap.

 

“Whatever it takes,” Jethro said, then kissed Tony, angling his head as he gave him a slow, deep kiss. Tony slid his fingers into Jethro’s short hair and tugged hard enough to make Jethro moan. Jethro’s kisses turned soft and loving, and his arms went around Tony and he held him like he was precious, and Tony felt a warmth in his heart that almost brought him to tears, for he had never felt anything so intense in his entire life.

 

Jethro whispered against his lips, “Do you want me?” and Tony responded, “Yes, God yes, always,” and Jethro smiled and whispered, “Good.”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

The next day, sitting in Jethro’s kitchen, Tony phoned the wedding chapel in Vegas and talked with Bess Cooper. She remembered him, “and that silver-haired fox you married, honey,” she said from over two thousand miles away. After Tony had verified that the marriage was, in fact, legal and binding, he was told that getting a divorce was much harder than getting married in Nevada.

 

Bess asked how Tony and his husband were doing. “We don’t usually perform weddings for folks who’ve had so much to drink, but it was obvious the two of you were sincere in your love for each other.”

 

Tony assured her that they had known what they were doing, even though it was a blatant lie. Well, he supposed that at the time they’d _thought_ they knew what they were doing.

 

As soon as Tony hung up, Jethro joined him. He’d heard everything, not that the call had been a secret. Tony relayed the procedure they’d have to follow should they want a divorce, and although he tried to keep emotion out of his voice, it wasn’t easy. He was determined to let Jethro decide whether or not they’d remain married. He knew which way he wanted to go, but he didn’t want to influence the older man in making such an important decision.

 

Jethro said, “I may have been under the influence of that homemade GHB, but all it did was bring out the truth.”

 

“The truth?”

 

“That I want to be married to you, Tony. I want us to do things together, normal everyday things like grocery shopping and squabbling over the right way to hang the toilet paper. I want to be able to drop into bed when I’m tired and find you’re already there. And I want you to feel the same, and to grow old together, like normal people. I want this really badly, and I know the reason I feel so strongly about this. It’s because it’s you. I care, deeply, for _you_.”

 

Tony blinked a couple of times and breathed, “Wow. I guess divorce is off the table then?”

 

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

 

Ten days later, after a succession of hard cases and long hours at work, Abby invited Tim, Ziva and Jimmy, and Tony, too, to a movie night ­– over at Gibbs’ place. She didn’t ask Gibbs if the lot of them could descend upon him, but he accepted the entire team, including Ducky, into his home. “It’s a sports theme night,” Abby had declared.

 

They brought food and drink and settled in front of the TV with their choices of movies all lined up: _Air Bud_ starring Buddy, a golden retriever, _The Longest Yard_ with Burt Reynolds, _Bend it Like Beckham_ , and _Cinq Tulipes Rouges_ , a 1949 crime film in which five riders in the Tour de France were murdered. Abby chose _Air Bud,_ and started it while Tony and Jethro were still in the kitchen, getting together a tray of snacks.

 

“C’mon, you’ll miss the beginning and it’s sooo funny,” Abby called.

 

“Coming,” Jethro replied, grabbing Tony and stealing a quick kiss before they joined the others.

 

“Hey, they might see us,” protested Tony, even though they were out of the line of sight of their friends.

 

“Nah, they’ll never figure it out,” Jethro said with a grin, although he released Tony and accompanied him into the living room. Ducky had made himself comfortable in an armchair, and Jimmy perched on a nearby ottoman, hugging a bowl of popcorn. Before Jethro and Tony had made it halfway to the couch, which Ziva and Tim were hogging, they stopped in their tracks.

 

Abby was standing a few feet away from the TV, remote in her hand, her mouth open as she stared at the screen. Similar expressions were on the faces of everyone in the room, eyes wide with disbelief, mouths agape, and in Tim’s case, hands over his eyes as he moaned, “God in Heaven, please tell me I did not see that!”

 

Tony looked at the screen and realized with horror that he had never removed the DVD of “Tony & Jethro’s Wedding,” and Abby had inadvertently started it. And worse, it was showing the end of the ceremony, with Tony and Jethro locking lips while Reverend Billy Bob Elvis Cooper sang ‘Love Me Tender.’

 

Tony turned, intending to run, but Jethro got hold of his arm and hauled him to his side. “Semper fi,” he reminded Tony.

 

“You gotta be kidding, Jethro! I’m not a Marine!”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s in our vows that you can’t return to sender.”

 

“You are _not_ quoting Elvis!”

 

Abby’s hands were over her mouth, her eyes alight with shock and joy, and a moment later she dropped her hands and launched herself at the two men, hugging them tightly. “I can’t believe that you two were married by Elvis, and that you love each other, and this is so wonderful, isn’t it everyone?”

 

Mortified, Tony felt his face heat up, but he spoke the truth when he said, “I love him, somethin’ awful.” Jethro, apparently, hadn’t seen _Moonstruck_ , but Tony didn’t care, because the way his husband was looking at him, eyes as tender as Elvis had described in his song, Tony’s heart melted.

 

“Guess this means we can wear our rings out in the open now.” Jethro retrieved their wedding bands from the lock-box he had made, from the bookcase where it seemed right at home between the Zane Gray paperbacks and Tony’s film guides. Jethro slipped Tony’s ring onto his finger, and Tony did the same for Jethro, while their friends and colleagues, some more cautiously than others, offered them well-wishes and congratulations.

 

As Jethro gave Tony a kiss, surprising him by being demonstrative in front of everyone, Tim grinned and said, “Looks like I win the office pool. I bet that if they got married without telling anyone, they wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret for more than two weeks. Not that I expected you guys to even admit you care for each other.”

 

Their colleagues gathered around and someone located a bottle of sparkling wine, so they made a toast while singing “Hound Dog.” Ziva smiled but Tony thought it seemed strained. Jimmy was ebullient, Tim surprisingly accepting, and Abby entirely supportive. Ducky insisted on watching the wedding video from the beginning. “Just to make sure it is legal and binding,” he said.

 

Tony laughed, although his face was still red, and Jethro wore a proud yet slightly embarrassed expression on his face at all the attention he was getting. When their eyes met, Tony realized that it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought, because in the end, this was all that mattered – their mutual love.

 

Of course it didn’t hurt that, although Tony hadn’t told a soul, Uncle Clive had, after all, left him a good portion of his fortune in his will. Crispian had inherited the family estate and business, and about fifteen million dollars, so after deducting the ten thousand dollars (plus compounded interest over twenty years) that Tony had owed his uncle, his very own share of the inheritance weighed in at just under twenty million US dollars.

 

Compared to love, especially a love such as he had for Jethro, the inheritance was, as he had pointed out, only money.

 

~ • ~ • ~ the end ~ • ~ • ~ 

 

 

 


End file.
